


We'll Meet Again

by andprosper



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-01
Updated: 2014-03-01
Packaged: 2017-12-25 07:43:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/950502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andprosper/pseuds/andprosper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Harry’s fiancée dies, Narcissa uses his debt to pressure him into a miserable marriage with a longtime-smitten Draco. In order to capture Harry’s heart, Draco takes on an alternate identity as Harry’s secretary  -  the loud and fun-loving “Donaghan.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the Bollywood film "Rab ne Bana di Jodi." (You don't have to have seen it to understand it.)

Draco Malfoy wasn’t certain exactly how long he’d been in love with Harry Potter. Over the years, it had just seemed to become a fact of his miserable life. And he hated it. Maybe it stemmed from an infatuation with the character in his bedtime stories as a child. Maybe it was seeing his green eyes for the first time in Madam Malkin’s. Maybe it was having his courtesy refused for the first time in existence…or it could have come later. He was certain the obsession had been there for a long time, but when it had become love? He’d only noticed the feeling in sixth year and it had tortured him ever since. But the war had been over for five years and Draco had seen very little of Harry Potter since then. He’d kept a separate life with his mother in the Manor, far away from the social life he’d once had. He worked with a small potion-making company that operated in Diagon Alley and only ventured out of the house to work there, out of the public eye. His boss tolerated him well enough, since he did good work and kept silent and as unnoticeable as possible in his small corner of the musty smelling room.  
So what had led him to this situation? Walking towards the Manor with Harry Potter at his side, still dressed in a wedding tuxedo and refusing to even look at Draco, though he’d tried to help Harry with his bag. He was ignored, but Potter – or he should probably call him Harry now – waited for him to lead the way regardless. They paused awkwardly at the threshold and Draco flicked his wand, so the doors swung open gently. Harry stopped just inside and sat his bag down, looking around the wide entrance hall with a strange, combined look of familiarity and an overwhelming loss.

Draco had met him again for the first time in five years only months ago…and fell right back in love. Harry’s glittering smile and unhesitant laughter haunted him from every street corner selling the Daily Prophet. He almost smashed one of those blasted newspaper racks, but restrained himself. Harry’s face was usually on the front page – that wasn’t anything new. But it was usually shots of the back of his head or side of his face, or his little picture self would be blocking his face from the camera or waving others away. This time, he was staring straight at the camera, arm wrapped around the female Weasley, waving proudly above the bold headline “The Boy Who Loved – Engaged!” Draco wanted to stab the eyes out of terrible woman who thought of that pun with her quik notes quill. 

However, he didn’t expect to see Harry in Hogsmeade, cheering and laughing with his friends over mugs of whatever they were drinking. Draco peered into the window the Three Broomsticks before he realized it would be horribly embarrassing if he was caught. So he pulled the collar up on his coat and walked inside, taking a very discreet seat in the far corner. Most of the heads around him were horrible Weasley-red, though he easily spotted Hermione’s bushy hair among them. Neville Longbottom was there, too, no doubt coming down from his post at Hogwarts to join Harry’s celebration. Draco wanted so much to hate him, to spit at the thought of him. But Harry’s face was so lit up with joy, Draco’s heart melted a little. 

He left without even ordering a drink.

Three months later was the next time he saw Harry. Really, seeing Harry Potter at St. Mungo’s shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was – but, under the circumstances, Draco guessed he should be allowed to be surprised. 

“There’s nothing you can do?” 

“I’m sorry, Mr. Malfoy. We have known her condition was deteriorating for a long time. We knew this day would come.”

Draco took a deep breath and tried to steady himself as he looked at the floor. Surely there was something he healers could do, he tried thinking, but optimism had long since gone years ago. And he should have expected this since sixth year. Life had taken away his father, his freedom, his status, his heart, so why not the only thing he had left? 

“We’re just going to have to see that she’s comfortable.” 

“Doctor M’Benga?” A familiar and distant voice floated over Draco’s shoulder and he turned to see Harry Potter. He’d seen him only in the moving pictures on the Prophet…and he certainly looked worse for wear. He was paler than Draco had ever seen him and had dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He obviously hadn’t shaved recently and probably barely managed to get dressed, judging by the state of his clothes. But, Draco really couldn’t blame him. The Prophet had reported Ginny Weasley had died less than two months ago. All Draco could remember was it was some sort of Quidditch accident and they hadn’t been able to save her. He’d been aware, however, that after several long years of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley’s volatile romance (if the Prophet was to be believed), and after Harry had finally popped the question, they would be getting married before the year ended. But now…

“Yes, Mr. Potter. Mrs. Malfoy asked to see you,” the doctor indicated for Harry to follow him and Draco looked confused and tried to follow, but the healer stopped him. “She asked to see him alone, Mr. Malfoy. I’m sorry,” he said and left. However, Draco just stepped beside the nearly closed door and listened. 

“I have tried to bring Draco up with a lot of love,” Narcissa was saying in her weak voice, so quiet Draco almost couldn’t hear her. “But he’s still very broken and very fragile, Mr. Potter. I’m afraid…he might not be able to sustain himself under these circumstances. He doesn’t have anything else in the world…Harry,” Narcissa seemed to be trying the name out on her tongue. “I know…I know our family has caused so many problems for you in the past…but… I won’t be able to die in peace unless I know Draco is in good hands.” 

“What do you mean, Mrs. Malfoy?” 

“There was a time when I helped you once and I was hoping you could be the person to help me.” There was a long silence and Draco was afraid he’d missed something until Harry spoke.

“I’ll do what I can.” 

“I know this is a difficult time for you Harry, but perhaps you and Draco can deal with your loss together. Take care of each other. I want you to marry Draco. Watch over him for me, ” there was a long silence and Draco was breathing faster. Certainly he wasn’t overhearing this conversation. If this were truly happening, the people in the room would have heard the sound of his heart beating strongly against his chest. “I don’t have much time, Harry. If you agree, I’ll talk to Draco about this.” 

There was another long silence and only moved when the sound of footsteps reached his ears. He jumped back into the seat beside the hospital door and tried to look nonchalant, but Harry didn’t even glance back at him as he left the room, cloak whipping behind him. Draco wasn’t sure what was said until his mother asked to speak to him later, long after he’d left Harry and his mother alone in that small room.

“Draco, I have never forced you into anything and nor will I today. But before leaving, I’ll just give you some advice. I’ve seen you pine after that boy since you were eleven. This is your chance. You need to let him see the person that I do. Draco, chances like this are only offered once in a life time. This is your decision. But I won’t be able to rest in peace if I leave you here alone,” his mother began crying. 

There was nothing he could say to his mother’s tears except, “I will do as you wish, mother.” 

The only time Draco and Harry saw each other before the wedding was at Narcissa’s funeral…but both events had to same finality and grief surrounding them. They disappeared from the country for the marriage – with only the two of them, a judge, and a few bystanders they didn’t know. 

“My room is in the west. But…we have several guest rooms,” Draco was saying, trying not to feel like an ass. “This way,” he said and levitated the bags, leading the silent Harry along. “We no longer have any house elves, but if you need anything, you can ask me. My room in nearby and I’m a light sleeper.”  
Harry remained silent and Draco continued. “This is one of the guest rooms,” he said, and Harry quickly grabbed his bag, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him.

Draco gritted his teeth slightly, keeping silent out of both guilt and grief, and went to his own room.  
That night, the rain beat against his window and Draco found himself unable to sleep. What had he done? He should have never…but how could he refuse his mother’s dying wish? Why had Harry…? Surely once Harry was free of his grief, he would demand an annulment of the marriage. Draco lay on his back and stared up at the canopy of his bed, eyes following the intricate swirls in the dim light. He barely registered when dawn cracked over the horizon and he automatically rolled out of bed. He got ready in a daze, nervously trying to go over his upcoming day. What should he do with Harry? Would Harry go to his own job? Certainly not – he hadn’t been seen at the ministry since Ginny had died. Should he show Harry around the house before he left? What should he do about breakfast? 

However, Harry didn’t seem keen on coming out of his chosen room – Draco didn’t even have reassurance he was alive within his room. He knocked lightly on the door and there was no answer, so Draco left to the kitchen to make breakfast. He hoped Harry would be able to find his way to the kitchen. After eating, Draco almost left a note on Harry’s plate of food, but thought better of it and went back to his room, knocking on the door again. He didn’t say anything, but if Harry was hungry, he would find his food in the kitchen. Draco sighed and grabbed his bag, striding out of the house and off the Malfoy property to apparate to work. 

Upon arriving at work, however, Draco noticed a distinct change in his normally distant colleagues. “So, Malfoy, you were gone for a few days.” 

Draco looked up from emptying his bag onto his desk to look at one of his fellow potion makers. He was usually not bothered in his small corner of the room, but now curious eyes were all watching him. “I was at my mother’s funeral. Or don’t you read the Prophet?” He scowled bluntly and returned his attention to setting up for the day, hoping that would deter the stares. 

“You can’t act like we didn’t notice the shiny new ring on your finger,” a female coworker said this time, getting up from her own seat, and Draco looked down at the ring sullenly. Huh. He’d barely recalled exchanging rings, but now that he noticed it, it felt uncomfortable and foreign on his finger. “You have to introduce us.” 

“Now’s not the right time,” Draco started, but was interrupted quickly.

“Really? Then why did we receive these invitations?” 

“You received what?” Draco asked, snatching an envelope from his coworker’s hand. It was an invitation to a party celebrating Draco’s wedding, but the groom wasn’t mentioned and Draco recognized that handwriting anywhere. “Pansy,” he hissed. How had she found out? He crumpled the letter in his fist and grabbed his cloak. He stopped only for a minute on his way out – to tell his boss he would be gone for the rest of the day. 

He apparated to the Parkinson estate, where Pansy seemed to be expecting him. He was allowed entry by a house elf and led to a parlor, where Pansy was smirking in a chair, looking very much to be an evil villain – if only she were stroking a cat. 

“Pansy! What is this?” Draco demanded, throwing the invitation on the desk. “You had no right!” 

“When were you planning on telling me, Draco?” Her tone was light and innocent, but he could feel the angry ice beneath it. “We’ve been best friends for how long now? And you couldn’t even tell me you were getting married?” 

“How did you even know?” 

“You can’t go cavorting about with a wedding band and expect nobody to notice!” All niceness in her tone gone. 

“I didn’t cavort anywhere,” he looked back down at the ring and tried to think of when he’d been in the public eye after the wedding. The wedding had been a private affair…could he have really been seen with the ring this morning on his way to work? Did news really travel that fast?

“But that’s not the point!” Pansy snapped back angrily, standing from her seat to advance on him. “The point is you didn’t even tell me! I thought we were supposed to be friends! Do I matter that little to you!? We had plans! I was going to be your best man or maid of honor – if you were the wife…and, let’s face it, you’d be the wife.”

“Pansy!” 

“How could you do this to me!?” He could see she was hurt underneath the barbs and shouting, so his expression softened. 

“Pansy…I think I need to tell you something,” Draco sighed and sat down across from her chair, which she sat upon hurriedly when she saw the look on his face. After he explained the situation to her, she looked rather sad and guilty. 

“And he’s at the Manor now?” 

“Yes.” 

“Merlin, Draco. I feel so guilty,” she buried her face in her hands. “I sent out those invitations to be vindictive. I just thought…” she didn’t finish her sentence, instead, she sighed. “What should we do?” 

“Nothing for it now. I can’t cancel. People would show anyways,” he sighed. “I’ll just make the best of this. I don’t think Harry’s up for this, so I’ll just say he’s sick.” 

“I’ll help, Draco,” Pansy offered, putting her hand on his arm. “I know…I know how you felt for Harry. And I’m sorry all this had to happen. And I’ve just gone and made it worse. If there’s anything I can do….” 

“Help me keep everyone at bay. I know Harry’s not ready for this. I don’t even know if I’m ready for our relationship to go public. It would be all over the Prophet. Can you imagine? ‘The Boy who Lived Married to Death Eater Weeks After Fiancee’s Tragic Death.’ I can’t put him through that.” 

Pansy was staring at him with a weird expression. He knew he wasn’t acting like himself, he usually covered up any sincerity with snark and sarcasm even among friends, but his mother had just died and he’d just forced Potter - Harry into a marriage he was sure he loathed. He didn’t have the energy to hide what he was feeling. “I hope this gets sorted out,” she finally said. “I’ll help you with all those people I invited.” 

“Pansy…how many people did you invite?” 

As it turned out, Pansy invited everyone she’d apparently ever met. Some, of course, didn’t show – whether it was that they didn’t know Draco or simply didn’t like Pansy or Draco. But there were still upwards of a hundred people at the party. Thankfully the Manor and its stores could manage that many. Draco had slipped a note underneath Harry’s door earlier, explaining the situation and telling him he didn’t have to come out and meet anyone. And nearly two hours into the party, no one had seen Harry at all, but a few people were a bit drunk and antsy. 

“Draco, where is this new husband of yours? He should come out and meet us!” 

“I told you, Nott, he’s sick. Now try and sober up before this turns into the sixth year New Years’ party again,” Draco scowled and Pansy came over, grabbing Nott’s arm.

“You haven’t had a drink with me yet! Come on!” 

“Malfoy, I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet your husband,” one of his coworkers approached him politely. “But it’s getting late. Maybe another time?” 

Draco wanted to say never, but he just shrugged. He wanted most of them to leave politely like that, so he wouldn’t return with rudeness. 

“Draco, why is Harry Potter here?” 

Draco spun quickly at the question and saw Harry standing in the threshold, looking nervous and uncomfortable, but there was definitely an attempt to tame his hair and he was wearing nice, fitted jeans and a button down deep green shirt with the sleeves rolled up. Draco’s breath caught in his throat – though it probably had more to do with how delectable Harry looked than worry about the uproar it would cause. Harry had put on a small, false smile and started greeting people. It didn’t take long for his general demeanor as a host and the glint of a wedding ring on his finger to give away the nature of the relationship with Draco. They stayed fairly far apart from everyone for the duration of the party, however, and worked on talking to different groups of people. Well…Draco mostly glared at anyone daring enough to approach him and attempt to ask about the relationship with Harry. And from what he could tell, Harry was politely avoiding answering questions about the marriage and instead pushed ministry small talk. 

After the party was over and Draco started cleaning, Harry finally joined him and they worked together in silence. When Draco started retreating to his room, however, Harry stopped him. “Malfoy?” Draco turned towards him, not exactly sure what to expect, but Harry kept a fair distance from him as he spoke. “I’m sorry for tonight. I married you willingly. We’re not school-age rivals anymore. And I shouldn’t be taking my anger at the world and my situation on you. I’ll do my best to be a decent husband from now on.” Draco was just staring at him as he spoke, like a deer in headlights. He really didn’t know how to respond, but he was grateful Harry continued to cover up his speechlessness. “But I do want you to know…I can never love you. I can’t love again. Not after Ginny,” Harry wasn’t looking at him now. “I’ll never love someone like that again. I don’t have any more love to give. So if you think this is…disagreeable…” 

“Stop, Potter,” Draco finally held up his hand. “Do you think purebloods marry for love?” That was untrue – many did marry for love. But he knew what Harry thought of purebloods. At least the kind with any money. “I knew I would be in an arranged marriage, so don’t pity me. I would have to make it work with whoever I married. Even you. So don’t get any wrong ideas. I don’t love you. I don’t expect love from you. We’ll just deal with the situation.” At least he’d managed to save face. After all that had happened, he couldn’t let anyone else see just how raw and broken he felt after all of this. And if Harry couldn’t love him…he couldn’t be the weak one. He couldn’t be the one who loved Harry without anything in return. He was a Malfoy. They weren’t vulnerable – they were hard and cold as ice. 

Harry’s lips suddenly thinned and he nodded tightly. “Right. Stupid of me to think I could have a serious, heartfelt conversation with you,” Harry swept past him and down the corridor to his room. Draco sighed and leaned his head against the doorframe, wishing he could have managed something better than sarcasm. But that was his defense mechanism. He’d never had a heartfelt conversation with anyone but his mother and earlier that day with Pansy. And even those were tense and awkward. 


	2. Chapter 2

When he got up the next morning, he showered quickly and headed down to make breakfast to find Harry already there. Draco looked surprised when he saw breakfast was already set out for both of them. Harry had made him breakfast? Why? He thought by dealing with it, it would mean they pretended the other person didn’t exist. Granted, the plates were set at opposite ends of the table, and Harry was pointedly not looking at Draco. Not wanting to ruin the sweetness of the moment, Draco didn’t say anything – not even a thank you. That could come out sounding sarcastic. He ate a slice of toast hesitantly when Harry finally spoke. 

“I’m not going back to the ministry yet.” Draco looked up from his dinner at Harry, who was now looking back at him. “I’m going to wait until all this…until this scandal has passed over.” 

“Right,” Draco said after a long minute of silence.

It was Harry who broke the quiet again when Draco finished with his dinner. “I made a lunch for you,” he pointed and Draco stared at him again. He did what? Harry looked embarrassed as Draco looked at the lunchbox. “I used to do it for Ginny when she went to training. I did say I would try to be a decent husband.” 

Okay, so being treated like Harry treated his dead girlfriend wasn’t exactly comforting, but Draco was too busy trying to hide his shock to care. He picked the lunchbox up cautiously, not really knowing what the proper etiquette for this sort of thing was and left for work without thanking Harry. What could he say? No one had ever made him lunch before. He usually went to the Leaky Cauldron or conjured it at his desk, but Harry was from a Muggle family and if Ginny had thought it was sweet, it was probably his only frame of reference for what to do in that sort of relationship. Harry’s Muggle aunt probably sent lunch with his Muggle uncle. Draco liked that frame of reference much less than the Ginny one. 

He pointedly ignored the Prophet as he apparated to work and ignored the stares directed his way. He spent most of the day staring distractedly at the lunchbox, trying to work out what it meant. Also trying to get the image of Potter’s Muggle aunt and uncle out of his mind. He’d never seen, them, but he could just imagine them – disgusting. Maybe a fat uncle. A fat Muggle uncle. And his wife would have to be horsey and bony. He managed to push the lunchbox out of his mind after lunch, which was surprisingly good – he wondered if Harry was a good cook or if he’d conjured it. It seemed, though, that Harry was a good cook. When he came home, he’d found Harry in the kitchen, making dinner without any magic. 

Draco sat the lunchbox down in the kitchen quietly, but managed to watch Harry curiously for a bit. Why was he doing this? Was this something else he’d done for Ginny? Why was Harry treating him this way? 

After a silent dinner, he found Potter in a parlor, having managed to transfigure a desk into a television. He wasn’t sure what he was watching, but Draco knew what a television was, and he wasn’t even bothered that he’d transfigured a desk. When Harry told Draco he would turn it back, Draco told him not to – it was his house, too. And Draco had never liked that desk anyways. The oak hadn’t matched the other mahogany furniture of the room. After a long moment, Draco finally sunk onto the opposite end of the couch and watched the film with Harry. It was completely baffling, but Harry was laughing and Draco’s eyes kept sliding back to him. It was the first time he’d seen a genuine smile on Harry’s face since a picture of him in the Prophet with Ginny. 

Draco was making Harry’s life even more miserable, he was sure. On top of his fiancée and long time sweetheart dying, he was forced to marry his school enemy – probably the person his age that he hated the most. He was sure he was on Harry Potter’s most hated list. Probably under Voldemort, Pettigrew, Draco’s father, and his Muggle aunt and uncle. And maybe Umbridge. That great bitch.

The only time in those couple of weeks he’d seen Harry smile was when he was sitting on the couch every evening watching Muggle films. Draco ended up watching them as well, too curious to go elsewhere and read or work on potions. Neither Draco nor Harry had visited or let their friends visit them in those weeks. Draco imagined Harry had sent Weasley and Granger an owl. Those two had married two years ago, so Harry probably kept in touch. Draco still wasn’t too fond of Weasley after all those years, but he’d started to dislike Granger less and less. When his father and the Dark Lord were gone, the pureblood fervor he felt had died down. And really, the only thing left for Granger was jealousy. And when he realized this, he’d tried his best to stamp it out. Malfoys weren’t jealous. Part of the jealousy had gone early, when he realized Granger was interested in Weasley, not Harry. So, after all those years, the only jealousy was against her grades and her intelligence. And that simply wouldn’t do. 

On the morning when Harry had decided to return to work at the ministry, he still made breakfast, perhaps out of habit. He still did as he normally did – avoiding looking directly at Draco and looking miserable as always. This, in turn, made Draco feel even more miserable. 

Harry’s return to the ministry had not been a quiet affair. Even Draco heard of it and he had confined himself to his small desk and Harry’s lunch all day. 

Harry returned home after him, so Draco conjured up a dinner for the both of them. When Harry entered, he looked surprised that dinner was already waiting for him, but seemed at least a bit relieved. Though it was hard to tell because Harry looked more stressed than Draco had seen him a long time. His hair was a mess and he collapsed into the chair. “I’m going to be working late from now on.” Draco looked up from his potatoes curiously. “I need to catch up on all the paperwork I left behind. I can’t do it during normal hours because we have cases that aren’t months old to take care of.” When Draco nodded slowly, Harry sighed and gripped his hair with one hand – probably how his hair had gotten into such a state in the first place. “I should probably hire someone to help,” he said, mostly to himself.

“Someone to help? Like a secretary?” 

Harry finally looked over at him, almost as if he was surprised Draco was even there. Or maybe more surprised Draco was talking. “Yeah. It’s just paperwork. I would get it done a lot faster if I had some sort of assistant.” 

“I see.” 

 

“Draco, please explain to me again why I’m using glamours on you.” 

“I already told you,” Draco scowled.

“I know, but I’m hoping if you hear it enough, you’ll realize how stupid it is.” 

“Pansy, Draco Malfoy makes him miserable. I just want another chance with him. I can do some stupid paperwork.” 

“So you’re pretending to be someone else to make him happy? It’s Draco that wants to make him happy. Why can’t you try doing that as Draco?” Pansy frowned and pointed her wand at his hair. 

“Pansy, I’ve had practice at making him miserable since first year. That’s what he knows me as – the guy who makes his life hell. I just want a clean slate.”

“You should go as a redheaded girl,” Pansy mumbled, at least halfway sarcastic.

“No,” Draco said firmly. “I’m not going to do that to him.” 

“You don’t even know if he likes men.” 

“He agreed to marry me.” 

“Yeah, I still haven’t figured that one out,” Pansy leaned away and sighed. “There. You’re all done,” she handed him a mirror from the side table and he examined his new reflection in it. At Draco’s insistence, she’d left him blonde, though his hair was more of a golden color now. She’d made his eyes a bit narrower and longer and his nose was wider now, and less sharply defined. His lips were fuller and his cheekbones were less pronounced. She hadn’t altered his pale skin tone, but his eyes were now dark brown instead of steely gray. 

“Good work, Pansy.” 

“I’m a stylist, Draco. If he recognized you, I’d have to quit and go back to school. You need Muggle clothes, too,” she pulled a stack of clothes from her bed and handed them to him. 

“What?” 

“Because Draco Malfoy wouldn’t wear clothes like these, especially not in a Wizarding area. I don’t know how good of an actor you are, so we have to make you look different enough that he doesn’t figure it out.” 

Draco frowned but went into the bathroom to change, though Pansy teased him about being shy. “You couldn’t have picked some looser clothes?” He called out from the bathroom, looking at the tight denim jeans and fitted v-neck sweater. 

“Come out so I can see!” She called and he reluctantly left the bathroom, pulling awkwardly at the pants. “Oh, you look sexy!” She said excitedly and straightened his shirt. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“Hush,” she scolded and patted him on the back. “Potter will never recognize you. Oh, I’m good. Now go get him.” 

He walked into the ministry in his clothes, feeling oddly out of place. He tucked his wedding ring into his pocket and headed towards the elevators. It was probably the first time he’d ever experienced the anonymity he was now. No one even spared him a second glance. He smiled a bit to himself, more assured in Pansy’s work and stepped into the elevator with several other wizards and witches. Lots of people were leaving, but it was also the end of the day, so last minute errands were being run. He alighted when he reached the Auror’s Department and had to pause for a moment. He wasn’t exactly sure where Harry’s office was. But someone stopped him and asked him where he was going. “I’m looking for Auror Potter’s office,” he said and the man looked confused, so Draco elaborated. “I heard he was looking for an assistant. I’m here to talk to him about the job.” After the explanation, he was pointed in the right direction and Draco knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” he heard Harry’s voice through the door and slowly entered, suddenly keeping his head down self consciously. What if Harry did recognize him? After a long moment, Harry finally asked. “Can I help you?” 

This spurred a reaction from Draco, who looked up hurriedly. “Yes, you can.”

There was a long moment of silence where Harry was looking at Draco expectantly, waiting for him to respond, but Draco didn’t see any sign of recognition in his expression. “Well?” He asked in a tone that made Draco jump a bit. 

“I’m here for the assistant’s job,” he hesitated, keeping his expression blank while he reached for inspiration in his mind.

“And what are your qualifications?” Harry asked and Draco put on his best confident expression.  
Something not Draco. What wasn’t Draco? He smiled slowly and raised his eyebrows. Smiles weren’t very Draco at all. Nor were suggestive eyebrow raises. “Just wait and see.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“I used to do lots of paperwork at my old job. I’m sure I can handle this,” he hoped he exuded confidence that he could do this sort of work without a resume.

Harry still looked extremely skeptical and frowned. “What was your old job?” 

“Just let me help you with the work tonight. If you don’t like me, then I don’t have to come back. But I’m sure you’ll find my work satisfying,” Draco didn’t know why every word out of his mouth sounded like innuendo, but he couldn’t seem to stop this false persona from doing it. He was trying to act different from himself – and Draco never flirted.

“Uh huh. What’s your name?” 

“Uhhh…” He’d thought up a fake name…but now he couldn’t remember. He glanced around the room – Harry had a calendar with the Weird Sisters. Ugh? He liked that rubbish? “Donaghan,” he said and his eyes found a poster of the Holyhead Harpies, “Jones,” he finished and then looked back at Harry, who was still staring at him. “You may have heard of me,” he said with a faltering confidence and then Harry shook his head.

“No,” he said flatly. “All right, Mr. Jones. Help me with the paperwork tonight and we’ll see how it goes.” 

“Please, call me Donaghan,” Draco said and Harry frowned even more.

“Mr. Jones, I’d also like you to stop flirting with me or you’re out of here.”

“Flirting? Who’s flirting?” He asked, actually unsure he had come off that way. Maybe it was the confident tone? Maybe he was off and it was a flirty tone instead… Harry stood up, obviously also taking his completely sincere question wrongly, and Draco reacted quickly. “Sorry! Sorry! I’ll stop.” Harry sat back down and pushed a stack of papers towards Draco. 

“I’ve filled out the first few on this pile – just fill out all the basics like that and I’ll fill in the details of the reports.” 

Draco nodded and looked down at the stack of papers. He pulled his chair closer to the desk and started working on the paperwork. Much to his dismay, Harry was as quiet and miserable as he was at home, but Draco couldn’t help but like that he got to spend this time with him. He stayed quiet so as not to get kicked out and finished the paperwork as quickly and efficiently as he could. When Harry declared they finished for the evening, he told Draco that he was expected to return the next night to continue work. Draco almost punched the air in excitement. After he left, he found a secluded place to undo the glamours before apparating home. Harry seemed surprised that Draco arrived home after him and was already setting out the plates for dinner. “Where were you?” 

“With Pansy,” Draco answered easily. 

Harry raised his eyebrows and paused as he sat a plate down. “Pansy?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not cheating on you,” Draco snorted and threw his bag down beside his chair. “I’m gay, Potter. You don’t have to worry about Pansy.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed and he started walking away, which was not the reaction Draco had hoped for. He wished he had more practice in making Harry open up than in making Harry mad. He had just wanted Potter to feel like he could say he was gay – or, more likely, bisexual. Damn. This was hard. Draco sighed and sat down at the table when Harry disappeared into the kitchen. This was why he needed Donaghan. He needed someone to get to know Harry better. He could see Harry all he wanted. He could be someone who made him laugh. He could give him happiness so that he forgot all of his pain. Donaghan could tell him whatever was in his heart - all that he could never say as Draco. He smoothed his hair absentmindedly as Harry came back into the room. 

“I’ll be late every evening for a while,” Draco said as Harry set out the food. “We’re working on a new project at work. It has the potential to be a big advancement in potions, so I have to stay after.” 

“Okay,” Harry said simply, leaving Draco a bit disappointed that Harry didn’t even bother asking him about it. Right. Because Harry didn’t care about Draco. He did what he thought was best for the relationship, but didn’t actually take an interest in Draco as a person.

The next day, after Pansy giving him another set of obscenely tight clothes, Draco strode into the ministry more confidently. He started grinned and greeting most of the people he came across. Harry liked friendly people, didn’t he? Well, Harry didn’t like Draco and Draco was no one’s friend, really. So Donaghan had to be the type to be everyone’s friend. As he walked through the Auror’s offices, as people were packing up and leaving, he greeted everyone loudly and with enthusiasm. Maybe he was too overbearing, but Draco had never been friendly, so he wasn’t sure exactly what was the threshold between friendly and obnoxious. “Hello, Aurors!” 

As he approached Harry’s office, he found the Auror standing outside of it with a stack of papers in his hands. Harry was clearly grimacing as he looked at Draco, but Draco managed to keep the smile on his face. Besides, at least Harry had an emotion other than misery on his face. “Hello, Auror Potter. It’s me, Donaghan. Remember? You must have heard of me?” Harry’s expression didn’t change as he stared at Donaghan. “Do you like the green?” Draco asked, pointing to his button down silk shirt. “Since yesterday, green has become my favorite color because I saw your eyes for the first time.” 

“Mr. Jones,” Harry finally said in a stern tone. “Do you remember what we said about flirting?” 

“Flirting? When was I flirting?” Draco asked innocently. “Flirting would be if I said you were the most attractive man I’d ever seen. And when you’re bent over your paperwork and your hair falls into your eyes, my heart skips a beat,” he had inched closer to Harry, but pulled back quickly when he realized this. “But I didn’t say any of that. No flirting. Like you said.” 

Harry was still staring at Draco like he’d never seen anything like him. “Mr. Jones. I don’t think this is going to work out,” he said finally, opening his office door, clearly intent on shutting him out.

“Wait! No no!” Draco followed him into the office quickly, stopping the door from closing with his foot. “Please! I didn’t mean to! Just give me another chance! No flirting! I promise!” 

Harry paused at his desk, looking at the stack of paperwork and then glanced back at Draco. “Fine,” he said after a long moment of silence. “Last chance.” 

“Thank you!” Draco said and sat down in a hurry, starting on the paperwork. He kept as silent as he could, trying not to upset Harry further. Maybe this persona was wrong? But if Harry wasn’t going to open up or be happy, shouldn’t he? One of them had to be enthusiastic. He was hoping maybe he could make Harry laugh or Donaghan’s happiness would be infectious. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Donaghan,” Harry finally said, standing up. He felt a little surge of joy that Harry used his first name. Well, Donaghan’s first name. 

“Heading home?” Draco asked cautiously and Harry shook his head as he got his cloak. 

“I have to pick up some things in Diagon Alley first,” he said and Draco followed him out of the office. It struck him suddenly that it would be raining and while Harry could certainly apparate into the Leaky Cauldron, he couldn’t apparate into every shop. And he didn’t seem to have an umbrella. After Harry had disappeared from his sight, Draco transfigured a nearby umbrella stand into an umbrella itself and hurried to floo to Diagon Alley, but he saw Harry approach the floo and Draco decided to apparate instead – less soot that way, too. When he arrived – before Harry – he went outside quickly with his umbrella and waited. Only a few moments later did Harry emerge from the Leaky Cauldron and look up at the sky with a frown. Draco approached him with a smile. “Hello, Auror Potter. Never fear, Donaghan is here,” he held his umbrella pointedly as Harry started walking through the pouring rain past him.  
“No thanks, Donaghan. I’ll manage,” he tried to brush him off, but Draco could see the look of serious consideration that crossed his face and the cold rain poured down on him.

“Don’t be so difficult. I’ve got this umbrella - I need to pick up some things around Diagon Alley, too. It would keep you dry as well.” 

Draco was glad Harry hadn’t grown up with magic, or he would have just managed with a drying spell, or conjured or transfigured his own umbrella, but he stepped under the umbrella with Donaghan after a moment of thought, hopefully realizing how ridiculous it was to be stubborn when someone was offering their umbrella. 

“Auror Potter, my mother used to tell me if you get wet in the first rain of the summer, you can make a wish and it would come true,” Draco grinned at him through Donaghan’s rounder face. His mother had told him that as a child. It wasn’t a lie.

“Wonderful,” Harry responded flatly, clearly not interested as he increased the pace of their synched walking. “Then what did you wish for?” 

“As soon as I asked for it, it was granted. I wanted the sexiest guy in London walking in the rain with me.” 

“Mr. Jones, you’re flirting again,” Harry scowled, reverting to his last name now that he was upset with him again. “I’ll go on my own.” 

“Wait wait!” Draco grabbed his shoulder before he left the safety of the umbrella. “I apologize. No more!” After Harry calmed down, Draco managed to muster up the false enthusiasm again. “So, Auror Potter, what did you wish for?”

“Nothing,” Harry frowned. 

“Come on, Auror Potter, I’m sure you want something.” 

“No, I don’t.” 

“Sure. Everyone wants something.” 

“Fine,” Harry’s tone was exasperated and he continued to avoid looking at him. “You seem to know everything. Why don’t you tell me what I want?” 

Draco glanced over at his miserable husband and sighed, dropping the Donaghan pretense for a moment. “You want to stop hurting.” Harry looked over at him now, his frown disappearing into confusion. Draco quickly returned to acting like Donaghan, hoping he didn’t catch on. “I got you right, didn’t I? Come on, Auror Potter,” he dropped the umbrella back and let the heavy, cold rain fall on them. “Close your eyes and let every raindrop touch your heart.” 

“Mr. Jones! Put the umbrella back up!” Harry snapped and forced the umbrella back upwards. 

When Harry finished his errands and Donaghan walked him back to the Leaky Cauldron, he gave Donaghan a curt nod. “Goodbye, Mr. Jones.” 

“No, Auror Potter, never say goodbye! “

“What am I supposed to say, then?” Harry seemed to grow increasingly frustrated with him.

“Uhhh…” Draco faltered for a minute. Something ridiculous, over-the-top, flirtatious, so he quickly chose something he’d heard in one of Harry’s movies. “We are travelling the love lane. Down the road, we’ll meet again!” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, he thought, surely, Harry had figured him out. But no glimmer of recognition appeared on Harry’s face. He just looked even more annoyed and said, quite simply, “no.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Harry arrived at the Malfoy Manor that evening soaking wet and filled with the same sense of dread he felt every evening when he saw that bloody house. He walked through the front doors and shook out his hair. Draco, apparently, still wasn’t home – judging by the empty kitchen and dining table. He could have eaten and gone to his room, but a quick flick of his wand told him there was no one else in the house. Useful spell for Aurors…and apparently for people in giant manors, too. He went to the kitchen to start working on dinner – he rather liked cooking, though. Although it had been a chore living with the Dursleys, it was stress relief now. It kept his hands and his mind occupied enough that his mind didn’t start wandering, a great relief in his life right now. That was why he’d finally gone back to work. Too often, when home alone, his mind had gotten idle. At least he had cooking in the morning, then work, then cooking dinner, and then films to fill up the rest of his evening. He didn’t even know what he was watching anymore. He made a point to watch films he’d never seen. Even if Draco did have to join him and make the situation uncomfortable, he was either thinking about the film or how uncomfortable Draco’s presence made him – not about Ginny. At least Draco was helping in some way. He started setting the table for dinner and then looked out the long dining room window. It was still pouring outside and Harry stood in front of it, opening it so that the rain started showering into the room. He could hear Donaghan’s voice in his head and Harry slowly closed his eyes, letting the rain pour over his skin, focusing on only the sensation. In fact, it was the most relaxed and content Harry had felt in a long time. He took a long deep breath and opened his eyes to look up at the stormy sky. 

“Potter!” Harry spun around and saw Draco entering the dining room, soaking wet. “Why the hell is that window open! These are hardwood floors!” He stormed past him and pulled the window shut tightly. “You’re going to ruin these floors. Just because you grew up with poor Muggles doesn’t mean you have an excuse for running my hardwood floors,” he griped, though he didn’t look directly at Harry. He cast a spell to dry the floors and then cast a spell on himself. “Crazy Potter,” he muttered and Harry’s expression darkened. Right. He was married to that prat. 

He ate dinner quickly and retreated to the parlor with the television. He was tempted to lock the door to keep Draco from entering, but it wouldn’t keep him out and it would just piss him off. Draco was already eternally pissy. He didn’t need to make it worse. But Draco didn’t join him that evening. 

The next day, Donaghan was there again. Harry sighed heavily. He shouldn’t have expected the guy to leave of his own accord, really. He was obnoxious. And maybe one time Harry would have gotten along with someone who constantly smiled, but his demeanor and his incessant flirting drove Harry up a wall. However, Harry wanted to get the paperwork done. Donaghan was pretty efficient and if he fired him, he would have to spend a few days finding someone else and not getting paperwork done. But that day, Harry was just not up for any of Donaghan’s flirting. 

“You know, Auror Potter, you should have really become a model or something. Your good looks are just wasted sitting in an office doing paperwork.”

“Mr. Jones,” Harry said warningly. 

“I’m not flirting! I promise! I’m just being honest. I don’t see why you would waste all your good looks on chasing bad guys and marrying some pureblood prat-“

“Mr. Jones! I want you to leave now,” Harry stood up angrily, glaring at the confused man sitting in front of him. “I have no more need of you anymore.” He was tired of him. Not only was he flirting now, he was prying into Harry’s personal life. “Get out.” 

“Harry, I-“

“I said out!”

Donaghan left quickly, looking hurt and confused, and Harry didn’t even bother to finish the paperwork before apparating back to the Manor. He prepared a dinner, but didn’t expect Malfoy to be home for a while. He set out his food anyways – Draco could use a heating spell – and ate alone. After he ate, he went to the parlor, hoping a movie would keep his mind occupied. Cooking certainly hadn’t and he knew his food was not up to its normal standard. 

Unfortunately, the movie did nothing for him. It was a romance. A boring romance. The man was promising the woman he would come back for her after she became engaged to the movie’s villain. 

“I can’t be with you in this life, but we’ll be together in the next.” 

“I will be yours in all the lives to come.” 

He found himself yawning and struggling to keep awake through it. He didn’t do a lot of sleeping recently. Mostly because every time he slept, he saw Ginny. But as his eyelids became heavy and fluttered shut this time, it was something different.

“Auror Potter!” 

Harry sat straight up and saw Donaghan on his screen. He had to be dreaming. Regardless, he looked left and right, as if someone would explain this madness to him. Donaghan’s wide, easy smile appeared and then leaned against the edge of the screen. Harry still blinked several times as if Donaghan would go away. 

“Popcorn?” he asked, pulling a box of popcorn from nowhere. “Getting bored, right?” He tilted his head back to the muted love scene going on behind him. “Love stories of today have lost their charm. But never fear. Donaghan is here. I have learned about love from the gods of love,” he made a flourish with his hand. Did Donaghan really talk like that? “I’ll show you romance with style.” 

Harry looked utterly confused as he watched the screen, but Donaghan was beside him now. He was wearing a suit and fedora, smiling at Harry mischievously, pulling the fedora down over one eye. He grabbed Harry’s hand and pulled him along. Music from nowhere started playing and Donaghan pulled Harry close. He led Harry in a dance, who, still baffled by this dream, allowed himself to be led along rigidly. “Loosen up, Harry!” 

“Donaghan, what are you doing?” Harry seemed to get his bearings. “Let me go!” 

The furniture around them disappeared as Donaghan yanked him around the room, ignoring his demand. When Donaghan pulled Harry close again, suddenly they were running down the streets of Diagon Alley. The moon was a high crescent in the sky and the stars glittered brightly despite the lights of London surrounding the small walkway. Donaghan was wearing different clothes now – a taxi cap and a long scarf. 

“You’re so quiet, Harry. Perhaps I should do enough talking for the both of us,” Donaghan grinned, looking fairly attractive in his rather plain, brown clothes. He still had a tight grip on Harry’s hand and look around them. “Maybe this isn’t what you want. It doesn’t matter. We can change it. Traveling down the love’s lane, right?” ” 

Now they were at a club, the light flashing brightly as house music pounding through the speakers. But Harry and Donaghan were on some kind of stage while the other people in the club danced on the floor, paying them no mind. Donaghan danced despite Harry’s rigid posture. “We meet again, Auror Potter! We could roam the night together,” he bumped his hip against Harry’s. “Or maybe revisit your favorite memories.” 

Harry was in a compartment on the Hogwarts express. Donaghan was seated with a book hiding his face. He dropped it quickly and stood up, wrapped his arms around Harry. His clothes were loud and bright orange, but, surprisingly, he looked good in these as well. “The Wizarding World will talk, Harry, but don’t listen. They don’t know what they’re talking about,” he turned Harry so that they were looking out at the passing Scottish countryside. “But I know where you really want to be.” 

They were in the Great Hall, which was completely empty of its usual tables. Students were everywhere – all his old friends from school, but Donaghan was gone. Harry looked around for him within the crowd of students, which suddenly parted and Donaghan was walking towards him, wearing an open white shirt and jeans. Harry’s jaw nearly dropped as Donaghan approached him, a pale scar glittering on his chest – was Harry’s imagination supplying that? - and slid his arm around his waist. “You can be happy again, you know. I’m the best you could have. You should know that. You could love again. We’re traveling down the love lane. Down the road we’ll meet again.” 

Harry awoke with a start and looked around him, not sure of the source of that dream. The room was empty and the sappy romance film was still playing. He felt a blush rising to his cheeks and turned the television off as if it burned him. 

When Donaghan didn’t show up for work the next day, Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He was the one who fired him. But now he felt guilty and decided to go to Human Resources. He asked for the address on his checks and found himself in front of a hair salon. He walked inside curiously and asked the woman at the front desk for Donaghan. She seemed confused by his request, but Pansy Parkinson appeared beside her. 

“Why are you looking for Donaghan?” She asked, looking a little less pug-faced than he remembered at school, but the expression seemed to have not changed.

“How do you know Donaghan?” 

“He used to work here.” 

“Well,” Harry said slowly, pushing on despite her curt responses, “do you know where he might be? HR said his checks were being sent here.” 

Pansy gave Harry the sassiest once over he’d ever experienced, and he had been under Hermione’s scrutiny for years, before turning her back to him. “Wait right there. I’ll call him.” 

Harry shared a rather strained conversation with the young receptionist who was absolutely giddy over talking to the Boy Who Lived. But Donaghan arrived soon enough, dressed in his usual loud attire, strutting into the salon and greeting everyone in sight. “Hey, Pansy, girl! I need to get my hair done later. Put me on the books.” 

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” Pansy said flatly. 

“Auror Potter. I hope you weren’t waiting too long. Now what brings you to this little salon?” 

“Look, Donaghan, I said some harsh things yesterday and I wanted to apologize. I’d like you to come back to work. I still have a mountain of paperwork to do and no time to hire a new assistant.”

Harry saw Donaghan’s face light up and he almost grimaced. Donaghan seemed to like working with Harry so much, he would almost feel guilty when he’d have to let Donaghan go. He was really a nice kid in general. He was friendly and would have been fun had Harry not been going through difficult times. Sure, he was obnoxious, overenthusiastic, immature, and flirtatious, but he was sure under usual circumstances, he could have really been friends with Donaghan. 

Donaghan was back at work the next day and back to flirting. Really, though, Harry was growing used to it. Actually, deep down, he might have been growing fond of it. Fond of Donaghan. It was nice to have someone upbeat and positive around when all anyone could do was avoid eye contact or express their condolences around him. Ron and Hermione were also mourning a loss and had kept their distance per Harry’s request. At first, he’d shut himself off, away from them. They’d respected he was grieving. And when he felt like he would be able to open himself up to them and let them help, Malfoy had put a wall between them. Not intentionally on Malfoy’s part. He hadn’t said a word about whether or not Ron and Hermione could visit. In fact, he rarely said anything – except to yell about the spoiled floors, of course. He’d never been around Malfoy so quiet and it was disconcerting. He supposed he should enjoy the peace, but he found Donaghan’s ramblings more relaxing than the shared silence between himself and his…new husband. Harry wondered if it would be entirely out of line to ask Malfoy to return to the selfish prattling and degrading ranting he remembered from their school years. 

Malfoy, like everyone else, was walking on eggshells around him. Donaghan was the only one brave enough to treat him differently. He must have been a Gryffindor back at Hogwarts. Had Donaghan gone to Howarts? He realized he didn’t know anything about Donaghan. Was he older? Younger? He wasn’t familiar at all, but Donaghan never mentioned school. Harry glanced across the desk at him and saw Donaghan smirking at him mischievously from over his paperwork. Then again, Donaghan did tend to have some Slytherin traits, didn’t he? Like that whole bit with the umbrella. As if Harry was to believe they somehow bumped into each other. But Donaghan had actually impressed Harry – not that he had gone out of his way to help Harry – but that he had noticed something as insignificant as Harry not having an umbrella and used it to his advantage. Harry could see hints of a dark streak Donaghan might have. Ginny had that as well. Not an evil streak, but something more complex beneath. Ginny had that. He could see it when she was playing Quidditch and he thought she never looked more beautiful than when she was flying. 

Donaghan worked with him for two more weeks, muddling through paperwork, passing off nonchalant flirtations to lighten the mood. He’d even managed to make Harry crack a smile once or twice. Draco, on the other hand, seemed more distant and stressed than ever. He was always arriving well after Harry, reheating his dinners, and very rarely joining him in the newly dubbed “tv room.” 

They finished on a Thursday evening with a loud sigh from Donaghan as he flopped back against the chair. “What do you think, Auror Potter? Finally done, eh?” 

“Yeah,” Harry couldn’t help but feel a relieved as well and his frown disappeared, forming an almost smile. 

“We should celebrate!” Donaghan jumped from his seat and Harry almost turned him down, but he almost felt like celebrating despite being exhausted.

“How so?” 

“Let’s get something to eat. How about ice cream?” 

“Ice cream?”

“Yeah! It’s summer.” 

Harry took a deep breath and then nodded with a slight smile. “Sure.” It had been a long time since he’d done something small just for fun like that. They flooed to Diagon Alley and approached Fortesque’s, which was still open, but not busy at the late hour. Donaghan approached the counter. “Chocolate,” he told the young man across the counter.

“What size?” 

“The biggest size. The bucket,” he pointed at a moving picture behind the counter with a couple holding an empty ice cream bucket triumphantly. 

“I’ll just have a cone of the same,” Harry said over Donaghan’s shoulder.

“No, bucket for him, too,” Donaghan cut him off. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Ice cream eating competition, Auror Potter,” Donaghan smirked at him, a familiar competitive glint in his eye that Harry couldn’t place. There was that bit of a dark streak again. 

“I’m not competing in eating ice cream with you.” 

“Why not? Scared, Potter?” 

Something about that phrase, about the tone in his voice, spurred Harry on. “Make mine a bucket,” he said with firm resolution. They sat down at a table across from each other and their ice cream was brought to them. They stared at each other from across their buckets, tension mounting. “What are we competing for?” Harry asked Donaghan. 

“How about…whoever wins, the other person has to fulfill one request. No matter what.” 

“Whatever the person asks?” Harry clarified and Donaghan nodded. Harry was about to tell him how ridiculous that was because, quite frankly, Donaghan’s flirtations combined with this demand seemed a bit alarming. But the way Donaghan cocked his eyebrow in challenge was so reminiscent of Draco Malfoy, Harry couldn’t back down now. “Done.” He’d rarely been able to resist a challenge issued by that prat. Even just someone lifting their eyebrow like him made his blood surge. They both dug into their buckets with vigor, eyes locked on one another. 

As their spoons neared the bottom of the bucket, Harry’s stomach hurting and his resolve wavering. His hand shook as he went in for another scoop and he finally dropped his spoon. He shook his head in defeat and leaned back against the chair. Donaghan wiped his mouth with his sleeve and stood up from his seat, fist pumped into the air. He seemed overly enthused, but, then again, Donaghan always did. Harry finally shuffled to his feet as Donaghan and he walked back to the Leaky Cauldron, Donaghan basking in his win. 

“All right, Donaghan, I’m a man of my word. What do you want?”

“I want you to spend all day tomorrow with me.” 

“All day?” Harry asked, wondering why that was all Donaghan asked for, but Donaghan seemed to take that for hesitance to do it.

“You can’t refuse it, remember?” 

“Yeah. All right. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Harry waved him off as he approached the fireplace.  
“8 A.M. sharp?” 

“Yes.” 

“Harry, wait,” Donaghan was smiling at him expectantly. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” 

“Goodbye?” 

“No. You know what I want.” 

Harry resisted rolling his eyes. “We’ll meet again.” 

“No no no. Full version, please.” 

“We’re traveling the love land, down the road, we’ll meet again,” Harry fought the urge to smile and roll his eyes at the same time before stepping into the Floo, watching Donaghan’s exuberant expression as he disappeared and the Manor materialized around him instead. He sighed as he looked around the empty house – Malfoy was working late again. He went to the kitchen and decided to prepare a dinner for Malfoy, even though he wasn’t hungry himself. It would help occupy his mind and it was almost habit now. 

Malfoy arrived shortly after Harry. He hung his coat and bag up and walked over to the meal Harry had set out for him and sat down. Harry, too, sat down, despite the fact he wasn’t eating. This seemed to give Malfoy pause. “Why aren’t you eating?” He asked after a moment of silence, not touching his food. 

“I already ate with my assistant.” 

“Oh,” Malfoy looked down at his plate with a blank expression and picked up his fork, but didn’t move from that spot. Harry sat, watching him, which seemed to bother Draco immensely, he opened his mouth as if to say something. 

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Harry asked him, trying to circumvent the obvious question. Malfoy seemed to be shaken out of his reverie and began to eat painstakingly slowly, as if every bite were causing him pain. Harry ignored this. If he was going to be an ungrateful prat and not pretend, at the very least, that he didn’t hate it, then that was his problem. “Malfoy,” he said when a sudden thought struck him. “My assistant, he’s also a friend of Pansy’s. Do you think you would know him?” 

Malfoy stared down at his plate and shrugged. “I doubt it,” he said sourly. “Pansy has tons of friends. You saw that during our little party fiasco. That wasn’t even a quarter of who she invited.” 

“His name is Donaghan Jones. Do you know him?” 

“Oh, is that the smiley git from the salon?” Draco asked in an extremely casual tone that almost made Harry suspicious, especially since he still didn’t look up from his plate. 

Although, ‘smiley git’ wasn’t a bad descriptor of Donaghan – at least from Malfoy’s perspective. He couldn’t resist smiling slightly. “Yeah.” 

“Hated him.” 

“You would,” Harry suppressed another smile. Malfoy could be so predictable and amusing when he wasn’t being malicious. “Anyways, we finally got through the weeks pile up of paperwork, so we’re going to celebrate tomorrow.” Was he telling his husband about his day and his plans? 

“Oh,” Malfoy said, which had been the expected reaction. Harry wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but it wasn’t a casual “oh.” Even more unexpected, was Malfoy’s following question. “This Donaghan…is he gay?” He finally lifted his gaze, but not his head, but his expression was unreadable.

Harry was taken aback. “What? What does that matter?”

“I’m just asking,” his eyes went back down to his plate innocently. “You’re spending a lot of time with this man. And he did work at a salon…” 

Harry was actually offended by the implication. Sure, their marriage wasn’t the ideal situation, but Harry knew he wouldn’t love anyone after Ginny. And if this was what Narcissa wanted to ask for in return for his debt, then he couldn’t find any reason to argue. He would never get married out of love after Ginny and it wasn’t like he would be going back to the flat they had shared. He figured he and Malfoy – or Draco, as he should probably call him, since he was now his husband – would learn to get along eventually. “It shouldn’t matter if he’s gay or not! I’m married!” 

“This isn’t exactly a normal arrangement, is it? Why wouldn’t you want something better?” 

“I wouldn’t cheat even if I was married to you!” 

“You are married to me!”

Draco stood now and Harry followed suit. “You think everyone is a dirty little Slytherin! Well, maybe I’m a little more honorable than you! I’m certainly not going to go around snogging every bloke I see to make dealing with you more tolerable! You don’t even know if I’m gay!”

“Well, you never tell me anything, do you?” Both Harry and Draco had crossed the table so that they were having a shouting match only a few feet away. “All you do is mope all day long! I’m trying here, but you’d rather I never came home! If you didn’t want to marry me, Harry, you could have said no!” 

“You’re trying?!” Harry exclaimed in disbelief. “You’re working overtime just to avoid me! And don’t feed me that crap about a new breakthrough! Malfoys don’t work overtime!” 

“Oh, you know so much about Malfoys now?” Malfoy’s lips thinned and Harry saw his fingers curl for want of something to throw or Harry’s neck to choke. “You know, maybe you should actually try to get to know me instead of making assumptions!” Draco stormed off in a huff and Harry clenched his fists, standing still and counting to ten in his head. He ignored the food Draco left behind and walked out as well, hearing the distant slam of Draco’s bedroom door after stepping into the corridor. 

He was so infuriating! Harry didn’t head back to his room, but to the parlor with the television instead. He flopped down on the chair and looked up at the ceiling, running his hands over his face. He was doing his best to keep things cordial between them. Why did Draco feel it necessary to make everything difficult? Because, otherwise, he wouldn’t be Draco Malfoy, his brain supplied helpfully. He sighed heavily and dropped his arms. At least tomorrow he would have some respite from that maddening husband of his.


	4. Chapter 4

*

Draco hadn’t necessarily wanted to instigate a fight. But, for some reason, Harry had decided to sit and watch him eat dinner. And, quite simply, Draco couldn’t eat another spoonful. If Harry would just leave, he could vanish the food. But that hadn’t seemed like it was happening. So, he’d had to take more drastic measures. All right, and, admittedly, he was a bit peeved that Harry was spending more time with Donaghan than Draco. But Donaghan was Draco. So, technically, he was spending time with Draco. But Harry didn’t know that. This was maddening. He was getting in pretty deep and he was worried he wasn’t going to be able to dig himself out of it. He was jealous of himself. It was getting ridiculous.  
And, really, Harry hadn’t done anything that even constituted cheating. He had kept Donaghan at arm’s length, despite Donaghan’s best attempts. Harry was a good person. Harry wouldn’t cheat on Draco – so why was Draco trying to tempt him? That had never been his intention. He didn’t want to know if Harry could be driven to cheating – especially by Draco, rather than by Donaghan. Why was he continuing this charade?

Because Harry’s smile had been reappearing. More often with Donaghan, but Draco was sure he had seen one right before dinner went to hell. Harry was slowly returning back to normal and that was through no help from Draco. Harry hadn’t been in contact with Hermione and Ron, as far as he could tell. He had chosen to go back to work, which had been a step in the right direction, but when Donaghan was around, Harry didn’t seem to be thinking about Ginny. Draco reminded him of his pain. Donaghan made him laugh. Draco was distant and arrogant and sarcastic. Donaghan was loud and fun and flirtatious. Draco kept his feelings locked away inside. Donaghan could scream “I love you” from the rooftops. 

The next morning, he woke up early so he could escape to Pansy’s salon. However, when he got ready for work, which he had to pretend he was actually going to, and went downstairs, Harry was already making breakfast. He didn’t say anything about Draco’s earliness as he entered. Draco sat down to his breakfast silently and took his lunch on the way, as usual. He could tell Harry was angry, and was rather shocked he’d still made breakfast – not only that, he’d still made Draco’s lunch. 

He stopped by the salon and let Pansy apply his glamours as she ranted about putting an end to this.  
“After today, Pansy,” Draco waved her off, as usual. “We’re done with the assistant work. How am I going to see him after this anyways?” 

Draco met Harry at the Leaky Cauldron at 8:03 A.M. This was a quirk of Draco’s – he valued punctuality, but never managed to actually be completely punctual himself. It wasn’t for lack of trying or that he considered himself an exception to the rule. He used to think that, but Pansy beat that out of him with too many late dates. It was just that he aimed for punctuality, but something always got him caught up – his hair was being difficult, he couldn’t pick an outfit, his shirt was wrinkled, he forgot his cloak, he’d slept in - it was any number of things. 

Harry didn’t seem to mind, however, and Draco’s knees almost buckled when Harry sent a friendly smile in his direction when he saw him. “Auror Potter!” He responded, instead. “Are you ready for a day of pure, unadulterated Donaghan?” He offered his hand, but Harry looked at it skeptically. 

“Donaghan-“

“For apparating, Auror Potter! Don’t look so suspicious!” 

“I’m an Auror. I’m always suspicious. Where are you taking me?” 

“It’s a surprise. Come on!” Draco wiggled his fingers pointedly and Harry took his hand, still with some hesitance. Draco had had this planned for a while. Not necessarily something to be done as Donaghan, but that persona seemed to be his only outlet to do things like this for Harry. Harry would never appreciate something Draco did for him. 

The apparated to the middle of a Quidditch pitch. Draco grabbed the brooms he had brought out earlier that day when preparing, which he’d actually been able to secure as Donaghan – both the brooms and the pitch for the morning. He had to cover his bases. And he’d secured a friendship with one of the Pitch Inspectors at the ministry. When he mentioned he’d wanted to take his boss out for a day of flying, the man had, rather sickeningly, fawned at the name of the Boy Who Lived and told him about a pitch in Wales that had been closed until the wards could be secured for the number of people who would arrive for games. “I heard you like flying, Auror Potter.” 

Harry looked absolutely awestruck as he looked around the pitch – as if he never expected something like this. Draco – rather, Donaghan – smirked and took his moment of distraction to throw the broom at him. “Gonna stand there with your mouth hanging open, Potter, or are we going to fly?” He noted, with some satisfaction, the broom still managed to smack Harry lightly on the forehead, despite his rather incredibly reflexes. Harry had managed to grab it before it did any real damage. 

“You fly?” 

Draco mounted the broom and took off high in the air, casually laying parallel on the handle, waiting for Harry to join him. He rested his elbow on the handle and his head in his hand. “Answer your question, Auror Potter?” He asked smugly. 

“All right. Let’s see what you have then, Assistant Jones,” Draco could barely see Harry’s challenging smirk before he was gone into one of the deep, signature dives Draco had seem a lot of during their school years. Now, Draco could stop pretending to be Donaghan and just fly because the game was on.  
They spent hours, until dusk began to settle, flying. They stopped briefly for a lunch Draco conjured, having vanished the lunch Harry had prepared for him earlier. That had been a lot more painful than he’d expected. After the several hours, Draco apparated them to an upscale restaurant Draco favored. He would have loved to show Harry a little class as himself, but this was the next best thing. 

“I feel a little underdressed,” Harry admitted sheepishly as they were seated. Obviously, Harry was getting the star treatment. Draco hadn’t been able to get such a well-located table since the war had ended. They were shown to their best table, which Draco hadn’t been able to procure since he’d been with his parents in fifth year. 

“I think people can afford the savior of the wizarding world a clothing gaff,” Draco said nonchalantly and Harry frowned. 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Hm?” Draco looked up at him after he took his seat and scooted in comfortably. 

“I hate when people call me that.” 

“Oh, don’t be so modest. I’m sure you love when people call you that.” Deep down, Draco knew he didn’t. Draco had known that for a long time. Did he throw it in Harry’s face constantly? Yes, but it wasn’t because he truly believed it. It was that it hurt Harry that someone thought he liked being called that. It had occurred to Draco, in their school years, to start being nice to Harry. He knew being cruel wasn’t any way to win Harry over, but it kept Draco relevant in Harry’s life. It kept him noticed. Harry only stuck around his Gryffindors. He barely knew the names of the occasional Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Hell, Draco doubted Harry could name all the Slytherins in their year. And that was after six years of sharing classes together. Harry had bigger things to worry about than a nameless Slytherin who had no bearing on his life. So Draco made sure he had bearing. There was no way Harry was going to remember a polite Slytherin, especially considering how much resentment he had for them and the stereotypes that were trapped in his Gryffindor head. He would never think a Slytherin was worth anything.

“No. Donaghan, the only people in my life who matter to me, don’t think of me that way. So don’t. I don’t need another adoring fan.” 

Draco wasn’t sure how to interpret these words. He furrowed his brow and leaned back into the chair. “All right, Auror Potter.” He felt a strange lump in his throat. Harry considered some assistant he’d had for less than a month someone who mattered? But not Draco – who had been in his life for over six years and was his husband? 

“You know, Donaghan, I didn’t have you pegged for liking this sort of place.”

Draco just wanted to tell him to deal with it, construing this as Harry’s dislike at the choice, but that wasn’t a response Harry would like at all. “You don’t like it?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s…nice. I just don’t usually come to places like this. That’s all,” he shrugged and looked around curiously. The atmosphere was quiet and subdued and the food was tasty, though he and Harry managed to sustain a conversation through it. Reflecting back on the first time he’d seen him several months ago, he could see the places Harry was more comfortable in were familiar, casual surroundings such as the Three Broomsticks and the Leaky Cauldron. He almost hit himself in the head. He should have taken him there. Donaghan wasn’t around for Draco’s likes and dislikes. Donaghan was around to make Harry feel better. 

“Harry, come on, I want to show you something,” Draco said and stood, waving the waiter over to pay the bill.

“Donaghan, isn’t it a bit late?” 

“Just one more thing? Please?” Draco insisted and pulled him along, grabbing his hand after he paid the waiter. Harry let him, surprisingly, lead him outside. Draco apparated them to a favorite thinking spot of his. It was in the middle of nowhere – a vast field with rolling hills than gave him a clear view of the star-filled sky. “Isn’t the sky beautiful out here?”

“Yeah it is,” Harry had his hands in his back pockets as he looked up at the sky – appreciating the vast array of stars, but certainly not awestruck. Draco pulled wand out, trying to avoid Harry’s notice, and whispered a few incantations. Suddenly, stars started disappearing from the sky and Harry took a step back. He looked over at Draco as if to ask what was going on. Draco gestured back up at the sky and Harry looked up as stars continued disappearing. Draco flicked his wand again and nearly all of the stars disappeared in a blink, only leaving the brightly glittering words “I love you.” 

Draco could see Harry’s jaw subtly drop in the dark as he stared up at the sky, eyes wide. He stood in stunned silence until Draco whispered “finite,” and the stars went back to normal. Harry blinked rapidly and then looked at Draco with shock and uncertainty. “Donaghan? What…what was that?” Draco’s heart dropped. What had he done? What was the purpose in doing this? It would hurt Harry more than help him, wouldn’t it? But it was eating him alive, it was bound to get blurted out some time…he just wished he had been able to do it as Draco. 

“Just a few darkness spells. Nothing big.” Could he turn this around and make it casual? Not freak Harry out? 

“No, I mean…that,” he repeated as if that clarified everything. 

“Oh, that. Well,” Draco ran his hand through his hair. “It’s love, Auror Potter. I swear, it’s true love. See, I’m not an eloquent sort of guy. If I had expressed my love through words. Something stupid would come out. So I thought I would get the entire sky to express my love. Did you not like it?”

“Like it? Donaghan, I honestly didn’t think someone would ever love me like this again. But…I haven’t been very clear with you. I’ve made a huge mistake. I should have told you: I’m married, Donaghan.” 

“To Draco Malfoy. I know. The whole of the Wizarding World knows. You live together in a big manor. And I don’t expect you to leave your comfortable life with him for me. I didn’t do this with any expectations.” Draco just had to tell him somehow. And it seemed like Donaghan was his only outlet. “I just wanted to let you know how special you are to me. And don’t worry, nothing has changed between us. We’re still friends. Everything is still the same.” 

“No, Donaghan, everything has changed. Nothing can stay the same after this,” he looked at Donaghan who was smiling hesitantly back at him. “How can you be so happy?” He could see tears in Harry’s eyes. “How can you love me without expecting love in return? Don’t you feel any pain in love?”

“Pain?” Of course, Draco felt pain in love. This was pain. It was the worst pain he’d ever felt. “Love is a gift, so how can there be pain in love? And as for expecting love in return, a person doesn’t love just to be loved in return,” Donaghan took Harry’s hand. “I love you. And you love someone else, so you married him. It’s very simple.” 

“My life is not that simple,” Harry jerked his hand away. Okay, maybe he shouldn’t have had Donaghan make that assumption. Harry clearly was upset by that thought. But maybe there was that little bit of hope inside him that he would agree with Donaghan. With his statement. Or at least deny that he loved his husband and say he loved Donaghan instead. And, in some way, that would be like loving Draco. “I don’t love anyone.” Draco’s Donaghan façade wavered as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “This whole thing… I can’t…” Harry dropped his head. 

“Are you happy with him?”

“What?”

“Are you happy with him?” Draco repeated. “Run away with me. If you’re not happy with him. If you don’t love him. Run away with me. Life does not give us all equal happiness. Some of us have to snatch our share of happiness from it. You take your share. Run away with me.” 

“Please leave, Donaghan. I want to be here alone for some time. Please,” he repeated after Draco made no move to leave. Draco saw Harry subtly wipe as his cheek before Draco disapparated to the salon. 

*

Pansy was pacing back and forth, looking pensive, while Draco looked at his normal reflection in the mirror. “What have you done?” 

“Pansy-“ 

“How could you tell him you love him? As Donaghan, no less!”

“Because I do love him, Pansy!” He snapped back and then clamped his lips shut, shocked that the words had come out of his mouth. 

Pansy’s expression softened and her shoulders slumped. “I know, Draco. I know. But Donaghan isn’t the one who’s in love with him! Draco should be telling him!” 

“Harry would never accept it from Draco. You know that,” now Draco was feeling sick to his stomach and grabbed the wine bottle Pansy had nearby. She had been nursing a wine glass like she did every night, but Draco started pouring himself a glass as well. 

“No. I don’t. And neither do you,” Pansy said pointedly and tried to swipe the wine glass from his hand unsuccessfully. “It’s time to end this charade. Stop playing this double role and tell him the truth.” 

“I can’t. I have to know what he’s going to do.” 

“You’re torturing him, Draco. What good has any of this brought? It’s only torn you, Harry, and your marriage to shreds. He would have healed in his own time.” 

Draco, however, was ignoring her. “How could he say Donaghan mattered to him? He’s no one. I’m his husband!” He started downing the wine like it was water and he had been dying of thirst in the desert for three days. Maybe that was why he’d made that terrible request of Harry – jealousy. He wanted to tempt Harry, test their marriage, see if he would run from Draco because of their broken marriage. Despite being a good guy, perhaps all the temptation would change it. Or maybe he really wanted the opportunity for a clean slate with Harry, to make him happy. 

“Draco, you can’t expect Harry to have any feelings for you when you avoid him like a plague and never show him the Draco I see. If he knew you the way I do…well, he’d probably kick your ass first, but he would care about you as much as I do.”

“He’ll have to love Draco Malfoy, prat of Slytherin, for who he is – bad attitude and all. This is me, Pansy. He’ll have to love me like this or not,” he knew what she meant and he knew he was being stubborn, trying to make his life harder for himself than it should have been…just like he always had. 

“Then at least give him a chance to get to know the prat of Slytherin!”

 

Draco was completely trashed when he arrived home. He didn’t even manage to take off his glamours, but he’d used Pansy’s floo to his own room. It was very rarely used, but he was drunk and stumbled over to his mirror, intent on doing his best to remove the glamours. He was met with Donaghan’s strange reflection and he looked over at the portrait of himself hanging over the mantle to see it looking at him disdainfully. He had cast a silencing charm on it long ago. He couldn’t stand hearing his own voice scrutinizing him. He hobbled over to the portrait, smiling drunkenly. “Draco, did you see Donaghan’s style today? Harry couldn’t resist Donaghan. Did you hear what he said?” He asked the unanswering portrait. “I matter to him. And you’ve seen how he treats the people who are close to him. It’s only a matter of time before Donaghan gets closer than any of them. Harry even let me hold his hand. And he won’t even let you slap him. You can be happy carrying your lunchbox,” he pushed himself away from the wall, looking at his own portrait from far away, wondering what anyone could ever see in that scowling face. 

“Why are you standing between us like a villain? You married him and ruined his life. He’s the savior of the wizarding world. He’s Harry. Potter. He’s perfect with his perfect smile and his messy hair and his perfect ass and idiotic heroism. And you’re a cowering, simpering child. You were a Death Eater. Why would he ever want you?” He made his way back over to the portrait and poked it, much to his moving image’s displeasure. 

“Listen, I’m telling you before he runs off with me, and you’re left alone and heartbroken - step aside. So that I can walk into the sunset with him and the Daily Prophet announces “Potter in Love Again!” and everyone in the Wizarding World cheers because he’s no longer married to that Slytherin prat who couldn’t get his head out of his own ass. Everyone likes Donaghan. Donaghan gets Quidditch Pitches just for being nice to someone. Donaghan can take Harry out without people staring,” he paused and stared at his portrait. 

“Why are you so quiet? Do you need time to think about it? I’ll tell you what you’re thinking. You’re thinking,” Donaghan looked back at his own reflection in the mirror and slumped, “…what if while loving Donaghan, Harry completely forgets Draco? What if he never falls in love with Draco?” He vanished the glamours and sighed heavily, walking back to his bed. “What if in the end, Draco is left saying ‘we are traveling the love lane, down the road we will meet again?’” 


	5. Chapter 5

*

Harry stood for hours in that strange spot in the middle of nowhere. He could still see the sky’s words vividly in his mind. What was he supposed to do now? Donaghan just poured his heart out to Harry. Crazy, flirtatious, idiot Donaghan. He never expected this sort of love from anyone after Ginny and he had come to accept that he would have none to give, either. He didn’t understand how Donaghan could love him after so briefly knowing each other. Did he just love the idea of Harry? Was he a fanboy? He certainly had phrased it like he was earlier in the evening, but he’d never seemed starstruck to Harry.  
And what about Draco? The annoying voice in the back of his mind asked him. He should be trying to make it work with Draco. Draco, his husband. What sort of person was he to even consider accepting Donaghan’s proposal? Was he considering it? Donaghan made him laugh. He was annoying, sure, and way too flirtatious, but no one had made him smile that much since Ginny died. But still, he was married, and Harry was not the type of guy to cheat. Could he be just as happy with Draco as he was with Donaghan? 

Dinner the next night was unbearably quiet and one of the few times Draco and Harry managed to eat together. Harry stared at his plate for the longest time before clearing his throat. This startled Draco so much, he visibly flinched, but Harry pretended not to notice. “The ministry is having a charity ball tomorrow. Making an appearance would certainly help,” he expected some snarky comment from Draco, but none came. 

“Okay.” 

Harry almost said something back, like “just okay?” but he took it as a blessing. “Will you be going with me?” This time Draco looked at him in surprise, as if he never expected to be invited. “We haven’t been to any official events as a couple.” In fact, they hadn’t been anywhere as a couple. Granted, Harry was a private person. Ginny had never been either way, but respected that Harry preferred privacy. Draco had seemed to prefer privacy ever since publicity turned on him. Harry had never had any interest in high profile relationships and preferred the simple parts of a relationship – eating dinner together, sleeping beside each other, enjoying each other’s company, saying I love you. Harry’s life had been complicated enough that simplicity was a blessing. Draco was looking at him with an expression that said he was taking the suggestion into consideration, but clearly conveyed he thought the invitation was ludicrous. 

“Well, you certainly didn’t give me much of a warning. I need an outfit.” 

“Don’t you have outfits?” Harry frowned and Draco huffed, getting up from his seat. He expected Draco to storm out of the room, but he walked to Harry’s end of the table and grabbed his wrist, forcing Harry to follow him. Harry was too surprised to resist being dragged along. What had gotten into Draco? What was he going to do? They were heading towards the bedrooms. Clearly Draco was going to lock Harry in his room, but they passed Harry’s room and Harry found himself being yanked into Draco’s. He didn’t have time to marvel at the breadth and luxury of Draco’s room – he really should have had a look at all the bedrooms before picking his. In comparison, his looked to be the smallest of the lot. Draco suddenly released Harry and yanked open a door. “Tell me exactly what I’m supposed to wear here!” Draco sounded angry, but Harry looked inside the room to what he assumed was Draco’s closet. Though he would use ‘closet’ loosely because said room was more than twice as big as the bedroom he’d had at the Dursley’s. There were racks upon racks of clothes, most that pulled out from the wall and the entire back section appeared to be dedicated to every type of black or near-black dress shoes that existed. 

“I don’t see the problem. You’ve got tons of clothes!” Well, wasn’t Draco just a rich gay stereotype? But, really, Harry was surprised to see this side of Draco. At the best of times, Draco ignored him. But now it almost felt as if Draco was his husband. He knew they were married, but this was the first time it actually felt like it. 

Draco let out an angry sigh and yanked a rack from the wall, revealing more clothes than Harry even owned. “These are out of season,” he went to the next one and grabbed the rack. It slung out and stopped with a loud thud. Harry was sure Draco could just flick at these with magic, but he was busy making a more dramatic scene for emphasis. “These I’ve worn to ministry and public events. These are work clothes,” Draco was pulling at more of the clothing racks. Harry honest didn’t see a difference between work clothes and the others. “These, Harry, I am saving for special occasions.” 

“Wait, hold on,” Harry held up his hand and walked to the clothing rack Draco had just pulled out. “What sort of special occasions? Can’t you wear one of those? Did you just call me Harry?” 

Draco ignored the last question. “This one is for when my boyfriend proposes. This one is for my engagement party. And this one was under consideration for…my…wedding,” the angry expression on his face was slowly falling as realization suddenly dawned on his face and he blushed heavily, clearing his throat awkwardly. “Obviously none of that matters now,” he shoved the rack back into place and walked out of the closet quickly. He didn’t look at Harry once. Harry heard his footsteps leave the room and he glanced back at his clothes. He pulled the rack out slowly and looked at the outfits individually. Did Draco really have outfits planned for all those things? And he knew when his boyfriend would propose? Of course he did – he was a Slytherin after all. And he wasn’t surprised that Draco expected to be proposed to. He certainly couldn’t see Draco getting down on one knee. After he got over his initial bafflement, he ran his hand over one of the sleeves. It was sometimes difficult to remember Harry wasn’t the only one coerced into this marriage. He picked the one Draco had dubbed for his “engagement party” and carried it out of the closet. He placed it on Draco’s oversized, canopied bed and walked out of the room. Maybe he could afford to be a little more understanding. 

 

The next morning, Harry didn’t see Draco. He ate his breakfast in silence and left a note for Draco on his plate, in case he came by to eat. 

I hope we can find occasion for those outfits. If you would still consider coming attending the event tonight, I’ll be leaving at 7pm. 

He almost signed his name, but the notion suddenly seemed silly – as if he wouldn’t know who it was from. 

Harry wasn’t sure what to expect when he was getting ready that evening. Personally, he didn’t like making many public appearances or doing ministry schmoozing, but charity was one of the few cases where he was willing to exploit his fame. He was almost discouraged from going completely without Draco. Regardless, he continued to get ready. After the Yule Ball, he hadn’t been particularly fond of dress robes and preferred to wear Muggle clothes. He sighed and smoothed his tie as he looked into the mirror. 

“Aren’t you going to do anything about your hair?” 

Harry’s heart nearly jumped up his throat and he whipped around. He hadn’t heard Draco come in, but he was casually leaning against the door jam. He was dressed in the outfit Harry had set out for him the night before – a charcoal gray silk button down shirt and black trousers. Harry could look at him rather appreciatively, now that he wasn’t being a complete prat – the way his hair, though slicked back, was done so in a perfectly controlled mess and some of the pieces fell in his eyes, the way his slacks skimmed over his slim hips, and the way the color of his shirt offset his complexion and complemented the color of his eyes. Draco had his hand tucked into his pockets with one of his thumbs hooked over his belt. “Wow,” Harry felt himself smiling. 

“Guess that answers that question,” Draco smirked and pushed himself off the doorway, walking towards him. 

Harry blinked, “what question?” 

“Whether or not you like men,” he replied smugly and Harry didn’t argue. Admittedly, Harry had been unsure of whether or not he was attracted to men. He’d been so into Ginny since his school years, he’d never really paid attention to anyone else. Really, he’d never been as affected by Fleur Delacour as Ron or any of the other guys. There hadn’t been much to his mild crush on Cho Chang. He’d loved Ginny, but there hadn’t been much sexual chemistry between them. They were romantic, of course, and they’d had sex, but Harry never found a strong sexual attraction there. They had sex because they were in love. The thing that never completely defined him as heterosexual was that he’d never been completely opposed to the idea of being with a man. Not like the other guys in the dorm, whenever the conversation strayed to sex in their later years at school. “Now what are we going to do with this hair?” Draco frowned, hand going to Harry’s head, which he ducked. 

“I happen to like my hair.” 

“There is no way I’m going out in public with my date’s hair looking like that.” 

“Well, that’s too bad. Besides, everyone else likes my hair. You’re the only critic.” 

“Everyone else is an idiot,” Draco reached up and smoothed Harry’s hair. “People will think I dropped my standards.” 

Harry moved his head again, but he was smiling. “Wow,” he was looking at Draco and Draco finally dropped his hand, tilting his head. 

“What?” He frowned. 

“Really feeling the husband thing right now.” 

Draco looked surprised and then took a step back. “We should go. I pride myself in being on time,” he turned on his heel and walked out of the room. 

“I’m sure you do,” Harry said as he followed him. 

They apparated since Draco complained the floo might get ashes on his clothes, arriving in the rather empty receiving area of the ministry. “They really could have picked a better location,” Draco scoffed as they headed towards the grand lobby, which had been transformed for the party. 

“It’s for charity, Draco, the goal is to make as much of the money go to the charity as possible.” 

“Right,” Draco pursed his lips. “What charity are we helping now? Orphaned house elves? Undersized giants? Werewolves with pet dander allergies?” 

Harry didn’t even bother answering, since he doubted Draco was even looking for one. In fact, when he looked at Draco, Harry would even say Draco was nervous. Harry looked down and took Draco’s arm. “We’ll get through this.” 

“I know that,” Draco snapped. Harry was surprised he didn’t refer to him as “Potter” in that tone. “I’m just fine. Though I expect you’re nervous. Walking around with Draco Malfoy on your arm. I’m sure the Prophet’s speculations have been illuminating.” 

“Dunno,” Harry shrugged, trying not to take the bait. “And I don’t much care what that rag says.” 

“I’m sure it was scathing. I mean only four months after-“ thankfully, Draco didn’t finish that sentence or Harry might have punched him. 

“Harry!” 

They both turned around to see Ron and Hermione approaching them. Hermione looked absolutely radiant in her aquamarine dress. She ran over and hugged him tightly, almost squeezing the breath out of him. He hugged her back gently and smiled, forgetting Draco momentarily. “It’s so good to see you both. It’s been so long,” Harry said.

“Yeah, well, whose fault was that?” Ron smiled and hugged him as well. Harry suddenly remembered Draco’s presence when they both looked beside him awkwardly, falling silent. He knew how they felt about the arrangement, which he’d been honest to them about. Ron, particularly, took it personally as a grievance against his sister’s memory. Hermione was a little more rational about the whole situation, which was why she also didn’t approve, but in a different way. She had tried to convince Harry his life wasn’t over and that he shouldn’t close himself off to falling in love again. She was also upset about Narcissa manipulating both Draco and Harry. 

“Oh, right. Draco, you remember Ron and Hermione.” 

“Yeah,” Draco seemed to be biting back words as he nodded to them both curtly. 

“So, Draco, Harry tells me you’re in potions research now?” Hermione asked politely, trying to be civil for all of them. 

“Yes, um,” Draco’s dry wit and quick remarks seemed to be failing him now as he tried to be polite to a former enemy, “and what are you doing, Gr- Hermione?” He said the name as if it was a foreign word. 

“I work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”

“Oh,” was all Draco said to that. “And…Weasley,” he couldn’t seem to manage Ron’s name, “you’re an auror like Harry?” 

“Yeah.” 

The conversation was so strained at this point, that Harry decided to intervene before anything exploded. “Should we go in?” He asked and took Draco’s arm again, causing Ron’s expression to twist, but he stayed silent. 

When they entered the large circular room, all eyes were on them. Harry ignored the whispers that swept the room and walked over to his supervisor, introducing Draco. They exchanged pleasantries and moved on. 

“This is only mildly unpleasant,” Draco muttered to Harry, who disengaged his arm from his as they both took a champagne glass from a tray. 

“So far,” Harry said darkly into his champagne glass. 

Draco was looking at a point over Harry’s shoulder and sighed heavily. “Blaise,” he put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. The gesture seemed awkward and forced, but he seemed to be putting forth an effort to look affectionate. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Harry watched him walk over to his former housemate and Harry was approached by Ron again. “Can I talk to you for a minute, mate?” 

“Of course, but if you’re going to still going to go on about Draco, I don’t want to hear it,” Harry held up his hand in a warning.

“I’ve already said my peace on that. But I do want to ask how it’s going. I mean, is he insufferable?” 

“You mean am I realizing I made a bad decision yet?” Ron didn’t disagree with this assessment. “Actually, Ron, quite the opposite,” Ron’s eyebrows shot up at this, so Harry continued. “I dunno. We’re starting to understand each other, I think. He’s not so bad. I think I seriously misjudged him.” 

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. He’s actually kind of funny, you know. And we’re slowly started to spend more time together and he’s not such bad company. He’s quiet and clean as a housemate, at the very least. It could be a lot worse.” 

“You’re sure?” Ron seemed surprised and uncomfortable with Harry’s answer, but he nodded anyways. “All right. I know I didn’t support this decision, but I’m not going to wish for your life to be any more difficult than it has been. So, I hope things work out.” No matter how much I disapprove was left unsaid. Harry smiled at his friend and patted him on the back.

“Thanks, Ron. That means a lot,” Harry said as Draco made his way back to him. “We’ll make plans,” he promised and turned to Draco. “Everything all right?” 

Draco nodded. “Blaise is harmless. Obnoxious, but harmless.” 

“You think everyone is obnoxious.” 

“That’s because everyone is.” 

Harry couldn’t help but laugh when suddenly his good mood was immediately damped. “Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!” 

Good god. Why hadn’t that woman been fired already? He groaned and grabbed Draco to steer him in the opposite direction. 

“Harry! Don’t you want to address the public?” Rita Skeeter managed to head them off anyways.

“We have nothing to say to you,” Harry said bluntly and walked in a different direction. She still followed them. 

“You’re not saying it to me. You’re saying it to the public. What do you have to say to the people who accuse you of cheating on Ginny Weasley? Why did you shack up with Mr. Malfoy so soon after the engagement? The readers want to know!” 

“Who even let you in here?” Draco pulled his arm from Harry and turned to her. “You know, I’ve got something to say to your readers.” 

“Draco,” Harry grabbed his arm again, intent on pulling him away, but Draco shook him off. 

“Does it give them a special satisfaction to try and tear down the man who saved the entire Wizarding World? Does it help them to sleep at night to try to make Harry Potter anything less than perfect? Well, guess what? He is perfect. He loved and was faithful to Ginny Weasley. So what if our marriage was a little rushed? Haven’t you ever gotten caught up in something? If your fiancée died before you could marry, is it really so hard to imagine you would rush into your next marriage? Harry’s too good of a person to call you out on your bullshit. But I am. You should be ashamed of yourselves. Come on, Harry,” he grabbed Harry’s arm this time and stormed away with him. 

“You should never have talked to her,” Harry frowned and wheeled him around to face him when they were away from her. “She’ll tear you apart.”

“Well, someone had to say something! People can’t go around thinking you cheated on your fiancée with someone like me!” 

Harry wasn’t sure what to even address in that sentence. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to clear his mind of frustration. “Draco, people are going to believe what they want. Nothing we say will change that,” he massaged his temples. “And these offhand, vaguely self-degrading comments are getting really annoying. I agreed to marry you. If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t have. Subject closed.” 

Draco opened his mouth a few times, as if he couldn’t figure out what to say. “Believe it or not, Harry, there are some people out there who read newspapers for information. They want us to tell them what’s going on or they’re just going to try to fill in the blanks themselves.” 

“Draco, you had no right to tell those people what I might be thinking, okay? I don’t want them to think I married you in some terrible rush of desperation after Ginny died. In fact, you don’t have any right to talk about Ginny. Is that clear?” 

Draco pulled his arm away from him once again, a very strange look on his face. “I was just trying to help.” 

“I don’t need any of your help!” Harry snapped back, anger at Draco coming on quickly. He just couldn’t believe Draco had the gall to mention Ginny to a journalist. Or to mention her at all. He’d been actually starting to feel like himself, and then Draco had to go and ruin it like he always did. “You haven’t been helping at all up until now, so why start? I do everything while you just whine about me mourning the death of my fiancée! So you know what, Draco? I can handle it on my own.” 

Harry stormed out, hoping he hadn’t made too much of a scene to attract attention, but not daring to look around to see who was listening. He went to one of the fireplaces before Draco could follow him – if he was following him – and flooed straight to Malfoy Manor. He went straight to his bedroom and flicked his wand to lock the door; it was easily opened by magic, but Harry hoped Draco would be smart enough to leave him alone. 

Harry awoke the next morning with no recollection of having fallen asleep and still in the clothes he had worn to the charity event the night before. He changed into a t-shirt and pajama pants to at least look like he was more put together than he had been, and went down to the kitchen to make breakfast as he always did. As he was cooking, he heard Draco walking around the house, but he didn’t come into the kitchen to greet him. He didn’t even come into the dining room. It wasn’t until he heard the front door slam that he realized Draco had left. Harry grabbed the lunch he had fixed for Draco and headed to the front door. He sighed heavily when he realized Draco had apparated and walked into the dining room to eat his breakfast. There was a note on his plate that simply read Sorry. When did Draco come into the dining room? He certainly hadn’t expected an apology from him. Even if it was a note rather than in person, which was the coward’s way out. Typical Slytherin. Harry picked it up, looking at the handwriting and slumped his shoulder. Perhaps he shouldn’t think of him as some sort of snake to slink away at the first sign of danger. Draco was braver than Harry had ever given him credit for. Perhaps Draco simply feared rejection more than Dumbledore, Voldemort, or the hatred of the Wizarding World or any of the things he’d put himself up against. 

Harry looked down at the lunchbox and walked over to the fireplace. “The Ministry of Magic.” When he got there, the first thing he did was alert his superior that he would be in late. Then he picked up his first issue of the Prophet since his and Ginny’s engagement announcement. 

__

Potter’s Marriage a Sham?  
Rita Skeeter

Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, shocked the Wizarding World last April when it was discovered he had married none other than former Death Eater, Draco Malfoy, only two months after the tragic death of his fiancée, Ginny Weasley. However, inside sources say their whirlwind marriage is in shambles. Potter and Malfoy allegedly sleep in separate bedrooms and rarely see each other. Draco Malfoy himself says the marriage was rushed. Potter has been spotted on several occasions with his newly hired assistant, sharing meals and sharing an umbrella. An anonymous source revealed that Potter and assistant, Donaghan Jones, spent a private day together, ending in a dinner at an upscale restaurant to which Malfoy was not invited. 

The vulnerable Potter was likely coerced into the marriage by his confirmed homosexual school rival as an act of revenge and the relationship is quickly falling apart. At a charity ball last night, Potter and Malfoy had a very vocal fight that was also physically violent. An attendee expressed her fear that the Savior of the Wizarding World was being harmed by Malfoy’s vicious intents. 

Harry snarled and stopped reading the headline story, his eyes roaming over to a bold line that indicated a story a few pages into the paper. 

Draco Malfoy and Close Friends Finally Speak on Potter-Malfoy Marriage

He flipped a few pages to the story and might have refused to read it, but the author caught his eye. 

__

Malfoy Speaks Out  
Padma Patil

Contrary to the sensationalism that has surrounded the Potter-Malfoy marriage, those closest to the situation say all is well. Ron Weasley, well known to be Harry’s best friend and confidant, reported on the same night as the altercation alleged by a Prophet reporter, Harry told him “things have been better than ever before in their marriage and [Potter and Malfoy] aren’t the schoolboy rivals they used to be.” Potter and Malfoy were also seen by everyone there to be physically affectionate and “attached at the hip” as one guest phrased it. Malfoy was introduced to Harry Potter’s boss, the head of Magical Law Enforcement and the disagreement reported later in the evening was induced by a Prophet journalist who will remain unnamed, who referred the their marriage as “shacking up” and accused Harry Potter of cheating on his former fiancée, Ginny Weasley. Draco Malfoy rushed to Potter’s defense and, in his speech to her, called Harry Potter the hero of the Wizarding World and said, “He [Harry] is perfect. He loved and was faithful to Ginny Weasley.” The claim that the marriage was rushed was not given in full context and Malfoy defended their quick marriage by responding, “If your fiancée died before you could marry, is it really so hard to imagine you would rush into your next marriage?” 

The ensuing argument, reported by several attendees, was about Malfoy’s response and Potter’s worry that the journalist would “tear him apart” for responding so vehemently in Potter’s defense. 

This, dear readers, does not sound like a failing marriage. 

Harry would have to send Padma a thank you letter. He hadn’t talked to her much after leaving Hogwarts, but maybe some flowers would be warranted. She should be the one writing the front page for the Prophet, but like she phrased it, it was the sensationalism of Skeeter’s headlines. The truth simply didn’t draw in as many readers. 

“Harry!” Harry lowered the paper to see Dean Thomas striding over to him. 

“Dean?” Harry half folded, half crumpled the paper in greeting and shook Dean’s hand enthusiastically. “What are you doing here? Last I heard you were redesigning the Chudley Cannon’s logo.” 

“Bet you heard that from Ron, eh?”

“Yeah. He was not happy about it,” Harry smiled in return. 

“I bet not. Been hoping I’d avoid him around here. Been lucky so far.” 

Harry hadn’t seen Dean since Ginny’s funeral, but tried to shake those thoughts out of his head. “What are you doing here?” 

“I got a commission by the ministry. New head of the Department of International Magical Cooperation needs a portrait for your little wall of fame there.” 

“Yeah,” Harry grimaced, thinking of the gallery of notable ministry employees – formerly was just for department heads through the years, but had been expanded to include a commemorative war gallery. Harry hated going near the thing, and he said so. “Hate that place.” 

“Me, too, but I gotta earn a living somehow,” the tall man shrugged and looked down at the paper in his hands. “Heard about you and Malfoy. Gotta say, I was shocked, but I never got to congratulate you, mate.” 

“Er, thanks,” Harry made a concerted effort not to frown. 

“Bet he was happy to finally get his hands on you.” 

“Um,” was all Harry said before Dean continued. 

“Didn’t know he had such a thing for you in school until this time around, did you? Honestly, I didn’t, either, until Pansy told me…”

“Pansy told you Draco had a thing for me?” 

Clearly Dean misinterpreted the question in the sentence, focusing on the former rather than the latter part. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t really see much of you in those few years after the war. Pansy and I dated for almost a year. Seamus refused to speak for me saying I was some sort of traitor, but I guess you and I know that Slytherin’s aren’t all bad, right? Dating Daphne Greengrass now. Remember her from our year? The pretty blonde in Slytherin?” 

“Dean, Draco didn’t tell me anything about having a crush on me in school.” 

Dean paused, frowning now. “He didn’t? Pansy said he was head over heels for years. Figured he would have told you. Guess I’d been thinking that was why the two of you got together so quickly. He already had strong feelings for you from school and you had that obsession with him as well. Seamus said I was crazy.” 

“You were always very perceptive,” Harry said slowly, not sure what he was supposed to think or how he should respond. Dean looked sheepish. 

“Well, I might have been the only one not surprised by you ending up with a man. After you would go all quiet when we would talk about that stuff back in school…I didn’t tell anyone, though!” Dean added quickly. “Pansy would joke that we should set you up with Draco, but you were with Ginny at the time…” 

“Hey, Dean, I’ve got to go find Draco,” Harry put a hand on his arm to stop him from talking, and patted him on the shoulder. He wasn’t exactly sure he wanted to know what else Dean had noticed. 

“Yeah, of course. Hope to see you around, Harry. Maybe we could arrange a playdate for our blonde Slytherins, eh?” He joked and clapped his hand. 

“Right,” Harry said absentmindedly as he walked away. He had to talk to Draco. 


	6. Chapter 6

Draco was elbow deep in a cauldron when he heard voices rising above usual volume outside of the research room. He frowned, but ignored it until the door opened. He looked up from his potion and almost dropped the ladle. “Harry?” He could see people behind Harry peering in curiously. Harry was carrying Draco’s usual lunchbox, which he hadn’t realized he’d left behind in his hurry to get out of the house and get to work before he could see the Prophet. 

“You forgot your lunch,” Harry sat the box down on an empty space on the long table. 

“Oh. Thank you,” Draco said in a light tone, not sure what to say. 

Harry closed the door to the lab and smiled at Draco apologetically. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I overreacted. You had good intentions, which, admittedly, seems rare for you, but I’ll take what I can get.”  
Draco could tell Harry was trying to keep the tone of the conversation light. He rather appreciated it. He really couldn’t handle a serious conversation with Harry… or anyone for that matter. It just wasn’t his way and apparently not Harry’s, either; at least, not with Draco. “Well, I wouldn’t get used to it,” he tried to match the same light tone as Harry. 

“I won’t,” Harry seemed to hesitate before continuing. “So, Draco, I ran into Dean Thomas earlier and…” he went silent suddenly and apparently was trying to work out what to say. After a whole minute of silence, Draco raised his eyebrow and Harry continued quickly. “Puddlemere United is playing the Cannons this evening. Umm…Dean recently did some work for them and gave us tickets.” Harry seemed to be chewing his lip nervously and Draco frowned.

“I suppose you’ll be supporting the Cannons?” 

“Not sure. It’s always been Ron’s team, but my old Quidditch captain is on United’s team.” 

Draco gave Harry a long once over, so he would seem to be considering it. To be honest, he was more than enthralled that Harry was not only apologizing but inviting him on a…date? “All right. As long as you don’t wear any of that garish orange.” 

“Deal,” Harry smiled and left, leaving Draco to stare at the lunchbox and wonder. 

 

Both Harry and Draco seemed to be of the same mind to avoid showing team favoritism for the evening. Draco would only allow himself to be seen in the colors of a team he actually supported, unless it was the World Cup, which, really, if you were attending, you had to choose a side. They both wore rather simple black robes, since Draco wasn’t subjecting any of his finer clothes to Quidditch stands. “All right, Harry, if the Cannons are Ron’s team, then who is your team?” Draco asked as they walked from the house to the apparition point. 

“Not really sure I have one.” 

“Hold up,” Draco stopped him. “You don’t support a team?” 

“Well, Draco, I didn’t exactly grow up in the Wizarding World…” 

“So what? You’ve been a part of it for what? Eleven…twelve years? Plenty of time to pick a team. Especially for someone who has an interest in Quidditch.” Harry simply shrugged at this. “Well, then we’ll just have to make a Falcons fan of you yet, won’t we?” 

“You would be a Falcons fan,” Harry smiled at him, almost fondly. That look made Draco’s heart jump up into his throat. He almost felt like he was going to be sick. How could Harry look at him like that, but say that Donaghan mattered to him? Draco looked away quickly as they walked up to one of the boxes. 

“At least you have good seats,” he commented, but Harry didn’t reply. “Nothing but the best for the Boy Who Lived,” he continued as he sat down in the seats and he saw Harry frown out of the corner of his eye. 

“Draco,” he said in a warning voice. Draco shrugged in a sort of half apology and leaned back in his seat. He heard Harry sigh heavily as he sat next to him, body tense. “You know I hate it when you do that,” he mumbled in a low voice. 

“I know.” 

“Well, then could you stop doing it? We’re supposed to be married, for Merlin’s sake. You could at least try to be nice.” 

“That’s not what married couples do,” Draco said in a half jest and Harry’s frown deepened. “At least, that’s not what we’ll do, since we’re not exactly a normal couple, are we?” 

“Maybe I’d like to be as close to any semblance of normal as I can be,” Harry snapped back under his breath, so the eyes fixed on their booth in curiosity didn’t notice them arguing. 

“So you want to join our accounts and write wills together?” 

“That’s the first married thing you can think of?” Harry asked incredulously, but Draco continued, not listening to him. 

“You want to tell each other about our days and travel together? Hold hands? Kiss each other? You want to fall in love and have sex?” When Draco said this, Harry pursed his lips angrily and stared forward. Draco turned to look at him finally, eyes a bit wider than usual at the heavy silence between them. “You want all that with me?” 

“All I want, Draco,” Harry said the name with strong emphasis, as if he was trying to tell Draco something, “is a normal life. And, yes, those things are involved with your spouse in a normal life. And you happen to be my spouse.” 

“You want to have sex with me,” Draco repeated with skepticism and shock. 

“I’d like to try a few of those other things first,” Harry still wasn’t looking at him, pretending to be enamored with the pre-game setup. 

“Like holding hands and telling you about my day?”

“Well, we didn’t really go about this whole thing in order, did we? So we could mix it up a bit.” 

This time, Draco’s eyes narrowed. He really didn’t understand Harry. He wanted to fall in love with Draco? He wanted to have sex with Draco? He wanted to kiss Draco? Where had this come from? He had noticed in the articles in the Prophet that Harry had told people things were going well, but there was a difference between going well and going well. Harry finally looked at him, pulling his attention from the pitch to stare at the blank-faced Draco. “Mix it up?” He finally managed to say. 

“Yeah,” Harry was suddenly smiling and he leaned in suddenly, chapped lips pressed against Draco’s. Draco was vaguely aware of a large section of crowd erupting into cheers. He wasn’t sure if they had been Harry’s admirers watching them or the teams had come out, but he wasn’t taking his attention away from Harry’s tongue, which was now sliding against his. He found they were pressed closer together and Harry’s arms were around him, one gently entwined in his hair. Draco moved both arms around his back and held him tightly, fingers gripping the back of his cloak. Their hot breath was steaming up Harry’s glasses and Draco couldn’t help but bump against them as he moved his head a bit. Draco wasn’t sure whose heart was hammering so loudly – his or Harry’s – but it didn’t matter at this point. He’d been waiting for this kiss for years. 

But Harry was pulling away abruptly. “I’m so sorry, Draco. I’m sorry. I have to do something,” he disappeared from the box quicker than Draco could kick his mind back into gear. He blinked several times as the chill Harry left behind crept into his skin. What had he done wrong? 

Desperately hoping Harry had gone to the loo, he waited in their box. But soon the game started, and then a half an hour had passed, then an hour. Growing concerned, frustrated, and even more confused, Draco left before the game ended and apparated back to the manor. He didn’t find Harry there, either, or any other evidence for him having come home. He began to pace his drawing room when the fireplace roared to life and Pansy’s head appeared. 

“Draco, Harry is here. He’s looking for Donaghan.”

“Harry’s where?” 

“At the salon. He wants Donaghan,” Pansy repeated. “Hurry,” she added before disappearing. 

Draco was definitely going to be sick. He fought back tears as he put on the glamours and disapparated. He was going back to Donaghan? After all the things he’d said? He was going to run away with Donaghan?! Had he realized just what a horrible life he was in for with Draco? Could he just find no potential in his kiss with Draco? Could it have been that bad for him? It had been the best kiss of Draco’s life and he was going to lose Harry over it. 

He apparated and as he walked into the salon, he saw Harry sitting in the dark lobby. He took a deep breath and approached him with a smile on his face – how he managed that, he didn’t know. 

“I thought you forgot about me. The stars and the “I love you” must have scared you, huh?” He smiled and sat down next to him. Harry was looking at him with a strange expression, reflecting the weighty decision on his shoulders. After a long silence, Draco finally prompted, “Auror Potter…is there a problem?”

“Donaghan,” he let out a long sigh, “I can’t run away with you.” 

His heart jumped into his throat, but Draco kept his face blank as he looked at Harry, waiting for him to explain. He wasn’t going to run away with Donaghan? Was he staying with Draco out of obligation? He knew Harry could never cheat on Draco. He wasn’t that type of guy. But maybe…maybe the kiss had done something as well? 

“I think I’m in love with my husband.” 

Draco couldn’t keep his jaw from dropping. Had he just heard right? “What?” His heart was suddenly pounding in his ears, sending him into a mini panic that he wouldn’t hear him say those words again. 

“I’m sorry,” Harry shook his head and stood up, walking away from Draco, but not leaving. “I’m in love with Draco,” there was a pause to gather his thoughts before he continued. “We fight a lot and he’s an insufferable prat. He can’t cook and he’s got way too many clothes. But he’s funny and smart and a great kisser. He’s one of the only people who’s ever treated me like a normal person in the Wizarding World. I used to think he was evil like the Dursleys, but he hides himself under the insults. He knows when he’s done wrong and he makes me feel like everything is back to normal again. He makes sure I have dinner if I’m running late, even if it is terrible,” he laughed in a strange way…was it a fond laughter? “He’s late to everything and takes too long to get ready. He’s let me make the manor a sort of home… even if he gets overly upset by spoilt floors. He’s competitive to a fault. But he’s let me grieve, he’s given me quiet and his company. At first it bothered me, but I’ve come to depend on it and miss him when he’s not around. He’s been supportive…in his own way and I can tell he cares about me. And I love him. That’s why I can’t run away with you. I’m sorry, Donaghan,” Harry said and apparated before Draco could say anything. 

“Harry…loves me?” 

 

Harry wasn’t sure what to do or where to go after he left Donaghan, but it turns out he didn’t even need to think about it. He was back on that Scottish countryside where Donaghan had transformed the stars. His heart was racing and he sat down on the damp grass to catch his breath and look back up at the sky. How did things turn out this way? In love with Draco Malfoy? Was he crazy?! He didn’t even know he felt that way until the words slipped past his lips. He had known he couldn’t run away with Donaghan, even though there had been a slight, immediate temptation to get away from his situation. But he couldn’t leave his obligations, his friends, or his new husband, as much as there was an initial desire to leave the life that reminded him of his pain and loss. 

But there was a pretty big jump between refusing to leave his life and being in love with Draco. Only three months and he was saying that about the git? Of course, nothing was normal about his relationship with Draco. Like Dean said, perhaps things were expedited because they’d known each other for so long. Draco had long been in Harry’s thoughts. 

And there had been some feelings for Donaghan, both of attraction and annoyance, but the attraction towards him, Harry realized, was all because of the little quirks he had that reminded him of Draco. Being a few minutes late to everything – late enough to make an entrance, but not late enough to be an inconvenience, his competitive streak, the little challenging quirk of his eyebrow, their love of Quidditch… And anything that was solely Donaghan was the part that Harry had found annoying – the constant flirting, the overenthusiasm (really, couldn’t he tone it down just a bit?)… but there were those small, heartfelt insights that were definitely not Draco. But they had never felt like Donaghan, either. 

And then there was Draco. God, was Draco a prat at first. He really couldn’t stand him. And he’d be lying if he said it had been all Draco’s fault. Draco and his relationship had improved a lot recently, and it wasn’t just Draco being less of a jerk. It was also Harry. He had been taking out his anger at the world on Draco as well, and viewing him in the worst possible light. When he finally realized Draco was a human being, he felt completely differently about him. He also felt he began to understand him better and he wasn’t afraid of the strange attraction that had plagued him in their last year at school together anymore. Honestly, he hadn’t thought of Draco much since sixth and seventh year, though he did wonder how he was doing on occasion. And then he was there at the hospital, looking at attractive as he always had, and so vulnerable. Harry could barely stand to look at him, it was like looking at someone naked. 

Draco had been genuinely curious about the television, though he never stated it aloud. He had restrained himself frown snapping at Harry or making snide comments. He had done his best when they first came to make sure Harry was comfortable in the Manor. He ate Harry’s food, even if he hated it, though not very convincingly. 

He heard the familiar crack of apparation near him and jumped to his feet, wand out, but a familiar figure walked towards him. “Draco?”

“Hello,” he said simply, walking towards Harry slowly, a finality in his tone that shoudlnt’ have come with a greeting. 

“How did you know where to find me?” 

“Harry, I haven’t been exactly forthcoming with you.” 

“Have you been following me?” Harry asked, eyes narrowed. He should have noticed someone following him! How long had he been following him? Just tonight? The whole time they’d been married? Did he suspect Harry of being unfaithful?

“No…yes…in a way. Harry,” Draco seemed unsure of how to answer that and then looked upward at the sky. He waved his wand and the stars went out, just like the night Donaghan had performed his feat of magic confession. “We’re traveling love’s lane. Down the road, we’ll meet again.” 

Harry stared at Draco for what felt like forever, dumbstruck and dumbfounded. Had he been watching he and Donaghan? Certainly it wasn’t… “Draco, what are you saying?” 

“I’m saying, Harry, that I’ve been Donaghan all this time.” 

“You-“ Harry stopped, emotions pouring in all at once – anger, betrayal, shock, and maybe a little joy. Draco had tricked him? He was masquerading as Donaghan? Of course he’d never seen them together – Donaghan was a work colleague and Draco was his husband. There were lots of people he’d never seen at the same time. Donaghan could have just as easily been Hermione or Neville, though he tried not to think about that, now that that thought crossed his mind. But that would explain the strange quirks Donaghan seemed to have. But that couldn’t be right. He knew Draco. He would have known it was him! Donaghan was trying to talk Harry out of his marriage with Draco and into running away with him! Why the hell would Draco think it was okay to do that!? Did he even understand the pain he’d put Harry through?! “You lied to me?” 

“You can be mad, Harry, but I thought I was helping! I really did! I swear!” he held up his hands defensively. But Harry was nearly sputtering with anger. He had betrayed him with some sort of con! 

“You manipulative, sneaky-“ 

“Just listen! Okay? Hear me out!” Draco held up his hands defensively and continued when Harry stayed quiet for a moment. “You were so broken after Ginny died and you hated me and I just wanted to see you smile again. I couldn’t tell you how I felt as Draco. You’d never accept it. You hated Draco. I needed an outlet to tell you how I felt!” 

“Do you know what you did to me?!” Harry shouted. “You lied!” But relief was washing over him as well. "You lied to me! With all that you did to me! You betrayed me! You followed me around and tried to get me to cheat on you?!" 

"That wasn't my intention! I just...didn't know how to cope. You hated me and I thought...you know. I never got a second chance in life. My history always follows me where ever I go, even with you." 

"You can't just wipe the slate clean!" 

"Didn't you?" Draco folded his arms over his chest. "Look, Harry, I don't know what to say other than I'm sorry. I never meant to take it this far," he sighed heavily, his expression as vulnerable as he did in St. Mungo's. "I love you, Harry." 

Donaghan, who loved him so much, was Draco expressing himself. He wasn’t stuck between a husband who disliked him and an assistant who loved him. He had a husband who loved him. Draco, however ill thought out his plans were, had good intentions. Now he was beginning to feel more relieved than angry, though they would have to have a serious talk about his manipulative Slytherin ways. But for now, he just couldn’t believe he had a husband who loved him that much. He reached forward and pulled Draco into a kiss. “You’re such a prat,” he sighed heavily. "I love you, too, Draco.”


End file.
